Since The Jeans
by Jeccelo
Summary: A Zutara AU. Kade and Seth Waters, Katara and Sokka, move to San Diego, where a new high school awaits. Kade cashes in at first, but doesn't remember asking to run into the enigmatic Zane Ashborne every day of her life. And what's with the mystery jeans?
1. Chapter 1: School Bound

**SINCE THE JEANS**

_A Zutara AU_

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by Jeccelo

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**A/N**: Ok, so i've been inspired to write a Zutara AU! Wish me luck! Theme for this AU is: A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton

Oh, and I've given everyone AU translated names (Don't hate me for it!! I was just craving some new names!!): Katara is Kade, Zuko is Zane, Jet is Jace, Suki is Sammi, Sokka is Seth, Aang is Alexander Jackson (A.J), Toph is Tameron, Azula is Aeva, Haru is Holden, Iroh is Uncle Isaac (Uncle Ike) (more may come, and they'll be explained) Kade is 16, Zane is 17, Jet is 18, A.J. is 14, Tameron is 14, Aeva is 16, Holden is 17, Sammi is 16, Seth is 17, Ike is 62. ALSO: Gran Gran and Pakku are married in this one, just devorced- also, Aang is Suki's little brother

Thanks for reading guys!!!!!!! I hope you like this, reviews are cookies!!!!!!!!

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**Disclaimer**: All characters except for Mika and the Chocolate Bros and a few extra doctors are inspired by the characters of 'Avatar: The Last Airbender'. I own none of those characters, Mike and Bryan do. A few plotlines are also inspired by the anime series, and I don't own those either. (e.g. Jace's role) The jeans concept is my own, as are the AU character names.

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1: SCHOOL BOUND

Car exhaust seems to be this city's best-selling cosmetic. And literal rush hour is their new box-office smasher.

Maybe that's what you get when you move from Midway, Utah to San Diego, California.

I never _longed_ to move here in the first place, but... I guess since Dad's in the military and Mom's dead, Gran's place is where my big brother Seth and I are going.

So that's how we got here.

Originally, she was going to hook us up with our Grandpa Paul, who divorced from Gran about ten years back-- he lives in Seattle, Washington. I'd love to go there-- so much rain! I just die for rain. And how often does it rain in San Diego? Yeah, notta. But I guess Gran checked out the best with the government when they were deciding where to send us: Grandpa Paul's place is one of those built-in condos above his own grocery store, whereas Gran just struck a good deal with a beach house. She's an artist, and a recent painting she sold skyrocketed with these really wealthy people who live just up in San Francisco. So she was able to rent this beach home just for me and Seth's stay. I'm happy with that: if I don't get rain, I'll get the ocean.

But the beach house is just where I sleep and listen to music: three fourths of my life aren't there, but at school. Past all the chaotic streets, through the maze of sky scrapers...

So that goes back to the car-exhaust comment. Yes, I happen to take pride in my smart-mouth, at least on occasion. Once you enter the city, you've _entered_ a _city_.

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When Seth called me from downstairs, I was half startled. I glanced at the clock-- seven a.m.? Had I really woken up this early just... for no reason at all? Hm. Well, I still took my sweet time lugging my three-pounds-heavier-in-two-months butt off the bed, throwing some outfit together, running blue-polished fingernails through my disaster hair, and then braiding it down the side as I stumbled over the carpeted stairs.

It was light out: March was when the behavior of spring was kicking in. Though through the window I could see that dying frost had collected: maybe spring wasn't coming as fast as I expected. And the fact that today was the first day Seth and I would step into our new school sort of brought the 'peek-of-autumn' feeling about.

Gran was in her awesome baby-pink robe-- Mom had given it to her so many years ago, and Gran had managed to keep it in good condition all this time. It still glimmered, like it was fresh out of the package.

Seth was at the fridge with her when I plopped down on a stool at the kitchen bar.

"Seth-- Seth, use a cup, please-- or just totally ignore me, that's fine."

Gran rotated her wrist in surrender, turning away, as Seth lowered the milk carton from his lips, grinning. After capping it, he draped an arm around Gran's neck from behind and kissed the top of her gray head.

"Congratulations, you've just received a milk kiss."

"Fabulous, maybe now I'll win the lottery," she mumbled. Seth and I both chuckled into our sleeves-- Gran had gotten this guilty addiction to the annual lottery sponsored every year by her favorite hair product company. If you thought it was amusing to see fat guys slopped in pizza and root beer jumping and screaming over the Super Bowl like little girls, then you need to see a hunched, little old woman in her curlers, robe, and fluffy pink slippers cuss and scream at a lottery show. Now _that_ is funny.

Seth wiped the milk mustache from his lips, and I took a good look at him. For a seventeen-year-old, he was quite tall. He towered over Gran; and sitting in that stool, he made me feel officially dwarfed. But I knew the secrets, the man behind the mask-- I knew his skinny arms weren't about to bully some little kid, or stand up to a two-hundred-pound linebacker.

I grabbed an orange and began peeling it for something to do-- I wasn't really hungry-- while I watched him fix his honey-brown hair in the reflection of the silver freezer door: it was shaven but for the top, like a hairy brown cap the horse-racers on television would wear. It was messy, some attempt at a mohawk that would just make him look stupid, but he seemed to pull off a rather stylish look with the help of some gel. Multiple piercing lined his ears: _so_ Seth. Gran had shrieked when he had shown her the two new ones since moving in with her. Already she had phoned my dad about Seth having far too many, but my dad had blown it off with a smile. I just remind Gran to be grateful he's not crazing over tattoos too.

Seth finished admiring himself, wetting his hands in the sink to better sculpt the aimless points of his hair, then turned and made his way towards me. I knew what was happening, but I'm never fast enough to wiggle free-- He grabbed me in a crude headlock, ruffling my hair despite my struggles, wiping his wet hands all over my face and head. Again, so Seth. When he finally let go, I threw my fists at his back like some martial artist, watching smugly as he yelped in pain and stumbled forward, laughing, retreating to the couch.

"Seth?" Gran called from the parlor; she had hobbled back there whilst the two of us had been distracted by our food and our do.

"Seth, aren't you and Kade on a tight schedule?"  
"Oh, yeah!" Seth jumped over the leather sofa headfirst, tucking his chin and summer-salting onto the carpet in front of the plasma screen T.V.

"Seth?"  
"Yeah, Gran!"

"You jumping over my sofa again?"  
"Why, Gran, maybe on the lottery you'll win psychopathic powers!"

"Yeah, yeah, now get goin'."  
We chuckled in response, Seth moving around the kitchen, now with his backpack that he had retrieved from the sofa, picking up objects from the counter and table, stuffing them in random pockets... I watched him, growing amused, and decided to take my chances.

"You're a little jittery."

He snorted. "So spread me on a piece of bread and have me for breakfast."

"Hey, just saying..."  
"I don't see you getting ready. It's the first day of schoooooool!" He wiggled his fingers like an idiot at his cheeks. "New hot boooyyyyys, and you haven't even looked at your haaaaaaaiiiirr..."

"Because boys who _only_ look at hair are stupid..." Despite my standards, I ran fingers through my bangs, fixing the braid that Seth's playfulness had undone.

"I'm such a professional, I can do it blind," I said.  
He snorted again. "Says you."

"Seth! Kade! Come give your Gran a kiss good-bye!"  
"My, my, you're insistent," Seth said, setting down his backpack and making his way to the parlor door in a few strides of long, teenage legs. "I mean, I knew you wanted us out of your house..."

"Oh, shush. You're so like your dad, it's nauseating."

I heard her muttering warnings under her breath as they embraced. After a moment I followed Seth's tracks slowly, half my mind still fixing my hair, and nearly ran into Seth's chest as he turned to come back into the kitchen.

"And so are you!" he observed with wide eyes. "Trying to knock me off the balcony now, are we?"  
"It could happen on accident," I replied dryly, "if you don't move."

As we passed, I bent low to kiss Gran's cheek and embrace her all but nonexistent neck.

"See yah later, Gran."  
"You be smart at that school, kiddo," Gran said seriously. "Bad kids runnin' around these days... and too many shirtless boys. You look out on that beach! Far too many of them, all boys, all running around half-naked like it's the Garden of Eden!"  
"Okay, thanks, Gran..." I rolled my eyes, turning back to enter the kitchen. "I love you."

"You mind those boys, now! Buh-bye, sweetie."

Seth was now finishing his shoes. I slipped on my flip-flops, pulling a sweater over the stain on my shirt and moving into the bathroom to apply some make-up.

It was surprising, how not nervous I was. While I dorked around with the mascara like the fasion diva I am, ha, ha, I thought about what today really was-- new teachers, new school, new classrooms, new halls, new schedule... new kids. That was the biggest one of all. New friends? Pff, yeah. As if I was good at making friends.

I just hoped this wouldn't be the same Kade, The Girl That Sits Back And Reads While The World Passes By kind of year. I was ready for a change-- I tried to click myself into that gear, though it was a hard habit to break, indifference.

When I finished eyeliner, I threw the rest into my purse incase I felt like it later and then stepped back from the sink to look at myself. From any standpoint, I looked like just the average girl.

Which was a good sign, as far as I was concerned.

"Yo! Kade, check this out!"

I sighed, throwing my purse around my shoulder, and went to Seth who stood at the kitchen holding a magazine. Peering over his elbow, I could see the picture of a motorcycler flying about fifty feet from the ground, doing some kind of suicidal back-flip with nothing but his thighs holding the bike above his head, his arms out in free-for-all like he was immortal or something.

I snorted.

"And you think the human race has advanced."  
"But you gotta admit, that's pretty sweet," Seth said. "Look here... this guy's supposed to be the champ of this year's rookie tryouts. He and his other qualifiers _will start their first competitive season next week_. Cool, you wanna watch that?"

"Sure, when I feel like a good laugh."

"You're such a girl."  
"Why, thank you. Nice to know someone recognizes intelligence when they see it."

"Heh, heh, heh."  
He set down the magazine, and I stole a last glance at the picture before shrugging it off and following him to the front door, picking up my backpack from the counter as I went.

"See yah, Gran!" Seth called, opening the front door, and he and I filed out into the fresh morning air.

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The school wasn't as I expected, at least the outside, as I stepped from Seth's car and slammed the door shut. I was unimpressed, and visibly, because Seth made vocal notice of it.

"So you've already decided this place sucks?"  
I chuckled, incredulous.

"No. I just... it looks like the ones back in Utah."  
"Well, _I_ think it sucks," Seth said, shrugging, and he and I started through the parking lot towards the double entrance doors.

The front grounds were littered with students, all of which, I noticed instantly, were clearly sorted into definite cliques. I wrinkled my nose at the concept, already feeling my stomach sink. Great. Just another judgment day. I could see it now, the pounding of a court room, some blonde diva atop a high desk peering down at me through outrageously long eye lashes, deciding my rep's fate. Nice image for the first day at a school.

As Seth and I approached, we caught obvious attention-- Our different, country-folk clothing, our facial expressions of unfamiliarity... I guessed the clothing part could be coped with-- no doubt everyone here except the super divas and their boyfriends fell farther out of fashion every ten seconds, and since there were more of those average kids than the outrageous ones, I was starting to feel a little more in-with-the-crowd.

However, it was clear that it would take a while to settle down with this bunch as a whole: they all seemed wary of their world, far too conscious of it, like they were being watched every second by some Cool Monitor. And so, the _cool_ thing to do, as we all know, would be to stare at the new kids like they were giant insects from another planet. But Seth and I were sort of above that, as far as maturity goes-- we managed to get to the front doors without being analyzed to death. (Which was another strange thing: obviously no one here enters the school before the bell rings-- that, I can understand. Who would want to? If you thought the cliques were bad... yeesh. Wait until you meet the administrators.)

Down the halls we went, practically blind, but finding our way pretty well. The halls were large, broad, and long, and I was thankful for that: a junior high I had attended two years before in Utah had been like a maze to navigate through.

To make a long story short, we found the main office. A lady sat at one of the two desks, looking like she was ready to set a crocodile on someone. Her pudgy, wrinkled face reminded me of a toad, something to spice the image of her long, Wolverine fingernails plucking at a rubberband. The false nails were painted bold scarlet, the same with her puckered, scowling lips. She looked more ancient than the U.S. Constitution, and as we approached, her eyes narrowed harshly.

"Haven't seen you two before..." she said slowly in a wheezy, suspicious voice. Another thing I could recognize instantly: the administrator knack of labeling all unidentified teenagers as hopeless hooligans.

"We're new here," Seth said, and I was relieved he had taken over.

"Hmmm..." She pulled her wireless keyboard closer, her long fingers getting ready to type.

"Names?" she said, her pinched, clammy voice reminding me something of the witches in old movies.

"Seth and Kade Waters," Seth said.

"Hmm..." she typed like she was stabbing a voodoo doll, and then rested her chin on her knuckles as her other hand commandeered the mouse.

"Well, it seems we do have schedules for you two. One moment, please..."

Seth turned to lean his back against the counter, throwing me a _Holy cow! _look that I returned with raised brows. Sighing, I turned around to study the rest of the office--

Someone rammed into me, hard, like they had meant to.

"Sorry--" a voice muttered.

It was a boy's voice, halfhearted, hushed, and hoarse. I was too shaken to catch his face, trying to blink my balance back, but I noticed something-- was it pink?-- on his face, almost obscured by long black bangs, before the boy fully averted his gaze and kept on hurrying out of the office. He was as tall as Seth, wearing a tight, gray hoodie, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and regular jeans frayed badly at the ends. Other than that, it was all I got of him before he swung the glass door open and turned into the hall, gone, like a wraith.

I shrugged, fixing a clip that had fallen loose from my hair, and turned back to Seth and the secretary. Her exaggerated nails were now drumming the surface of a printer, from which, after a moment, two papers slid. Slipping them from the printer's tray, she handed them both to Seth.

"There you go, honey."

"Thanks..." Seth turned away quickly, looking repulsed at what she had called him, and I followed him quickly from the office. Right as we were leaving, a man entered from a door on the opposite end of the room, one that lead into other office departments, and the last thing I heard was his voice:

"Oh, Lois, did Zane just leave?"

Seth and I made our way down the hall until we found a suitable sitting area-- large, long steps fashioned for groups of kids to gather and chat during lunch hours. Sitting beside him, I took the paper he offered me. Atop it was my usual school information: name, I.D., grade, stuff like that. Below, I saw the list of classes: on A days, I'd attend United States History, Advanced Literature, Recreational Bowling, and then Pre Caluclis. On B days, I'd have Biology, then be a T.A. for a Mr. Kohlan in room 157, then Drawing 1 (for the laughs), and lastly Animation in the computer labs (for more laughs).

"Man," Seth said over his own, "this is gonna be one semester for hidden Nanos and note-passing."

"You sure you won't get electrocuted, all those piercings stabbing the ear phones?"

He shot me a long, bored glance and I laughed, looking away.

"Well, I think I might enjoy this semester, whatever's left of it, anyway."

A five-minute warning bell rang. The talking of kids began to rise in the halls-- Seth glanced at me, lifting an eyebrow.

"Give 'em kindergarten," he said.

"Right," I said, "More immaturity is exactly what these poor American educators need."

He nodded in agreement, and I watched him melt into the slowly growing crowds of the halls.


	2. Chapter 2: Infochat

2: INFOCHAT

**A/N**: Wow, thanks for your reviews guys! I guess i will pursue this one! OH, AND IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm changing Suki's name from Sammi to Simone-- (hehe, Suki is french now- no, not really) sorry, i wanted it be be Simone at first, but i couldn't remember the name!!! But now i did, so it's all good.

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Well, at first I got lost. I didn't think I would, as I mentioned the school looked a lot more navigation-friendly than my last one back in Utah... but I guess I underestimated what huge crowds of kids can do to a place. Suddenly, it's the smallest building on the face of the earth.

I didn't get the direction all the classroom numbers were going in-- Once I went upstairs, I had gotten thoroughly confused chasing a cluster of classrooms around and around like a dog chasing his tail, probably giving people lots of de ja vu's as I walked past them again and again... So I went back downstairs, thinking if I backtracked, I'd be in better shape.

I retreated from the crowds, from the endless lockers, to a small concave in the walls where there was stationed a drinking fountain and some vending machines. Room 217... that's what I needed... I looked to my right. Down a few yards were the gyms... rooms 115 and 116. So maybe... oh, great. I'd be going all the way down to the other end of the school. Well, might as well get going. And if I was wrong this time, then it would be tail-between-my-legs to the administrators.

I tried to avoid eye contact with anyone, tried to look as calm as possible. The last thing I wanted was to appear frantic and irritated, which is what I felt more than anything. I caught the eyes of some people down the halls... I was new, after all, there wasn't much I could do about it. Most of them were kids who were standing off to the sides of the halls, talking with friends, their eyes wandering over passing students... they'd see me, stare for a moment while talking, and then look away. It wasn't all judgmental like I thought it would be. Maybe this school would be different... Well, anyhow, I needed to find my classroom, the tardy bell was three minutes away... (Though not many people seemed to care-- I tried to act like I didn't either. Dang it, why was I suddenly so vulnerable to image? A few minutes ago, I hadn't been... Maybe it's because I was lost.)

As I approached the east end of the school, I was starting to feel more comfortable as far as the people went. I was even considering asking someone for help... A girl, someone my age, who looked friendly. I kept my eyes out for anyone-- I had a pretty good idea of what I needed. I was sure I could spot it...

I found someone. A girl in a purple football jersey-- which she looked great it-- with jean kapries, and slip-on tennis shoes. Her brown hair was short and stylishly flipped at her ears, her face sparing of make-up. A heavily-graffitied binder was under her arm-- she wasn't talking to anyone, to my relief, but was pasting something on the inside of her locker door.

Swallowing, I tried to hide my schedule and approached her back.

"Excuse me?" My voice was unfamiliar. Great, now I had a new-girl voice.

She turned to me wide-eyed, and when she saw me, she smiled.

"Yeah?"  
"Um--" I glanced at my schedule, then back at her large hazel eyes. "I'm new here, and I'm having trouble finding a classroom, could you help me?"

She grinned.

"Yeah, sure thing. Here, let me set these down..."  
I nearly melted with relief, watching her slide a few books into her locker. As she did, I caught a glimpse of what she was pasting inside-- it was a picture of a brown-haired boy with a big red NO sign drawn across his face.

I chuckled, and she caught my eyes slyly.

"You saw that?" she said, smiling, and I nodded, suddenly shy. She snorted.

"Yeah. Only the biggest retard in our school-- had to tape a "Hands-off" note on my back pocket last year... C'mon, follow me-- what room are you looking for?"  
"Um... Room 217."

She beamed.

"Hey, no way, that's where I'm headed!"  
I smiled back.

"Really?"  
"Yeah. Sweet-- I'm Simone Kyler."

"I'm Kade Waters," I said. "I have to be honest, I'm really relieved I decided to ask for help."

Simone laughed. "I bet you are. This place isn't so bad, just as long as you collide with the right people."

Collide. Hm... Funny word to use...

"So," she said brightly, "Apparently we're in the same grade-- did you move here?"  
"Yeah, I'm from Utah."  
"Cool, I have cousins living down there." She steered me towards the east stairs and we climbed side by side. "Is the big city just a pill?"

I chuckled. "Yeah. It's a big change."

"I bet it's like stepping into a rock concert."  
I laughed this time.

"That's accurate."  
We small-talked some more, me paying attention to the rooms we passed, until we reached a door literally smothered in pictures relating to U.S. History: George Washington here, the White House there, The American Flag up, The War of 1812 down... Simone caught my look of amusement and grinned.

"Yeah. Mrs. Wulsy-- Probably the most enthusiastic teacher you'll ever meet. She has fan clubs and everything. But her class is really straight-forward, super easy for high school, anyway. I think you'll like it."  
I nodded, and we entered.

An assortment of kids were scattered over the desks, but they were instantly drowned out when I saw the walls-- if there _was_ any sheet rock beneath the plethora of posters: all pertaining to United States history, just like the cluttered door. In each corner, actual wax figures of key characters in the country's development were stationed, dressed in professional costumes: overall, it was like half a museum squeezed into this relatively small classroom. I chuckled as I saw it, and then looked to the front with Simone-- a woman sat at a computer, wearing a plaid shirt underneath a brown vest heavily designed to match those that Native Americans would wear. She was an older woman, gray hair bunched around her head much like Gran's, and when she turned to see who had entered her room, I could see her pleasant face light, like she had detected a new mind to inspire on her inner radar.

"Simone!" she said gracefully, rising with outstretched hands. "Who is your lovely new friend?"  
"This is Kade Waters, Mrs. Wulsy," Simone said. "She's from Utah."  
"Utah!" Mrs. Wulsy exclaimed, hands over her heart as she approached them. "Ah, the country! How one can miss it."

She was reminding me more and more of some kind of oracle-- but not in the creepy sense. She was soft, reassuring, and as she came to take my hand in welcome I couldn't help but smiling just out of sheer liking for her.

"Well, anyhow, welcome, Miss Waters, welcome. Will you be attending this period?"  
"Yes," I said, drawing back my hand. "I... look forward to it."  
"Well, that's good, because it's no less than two minutes away!" She swept back behind her desk, looking comically flustered, and tapped a bit at her computer while standing. Her drooped eyes looked back up over the classroom, at the random students about the desks, and she waved a fleshy set of knuckles in their direction, golden bracelets tinkling together on her wrist as she did.

"Sit, sit, now, gentlemen!"

Simone shot me a considerate smile and then suddenly Mrs. Wulsy leapt from behind her desk.

"Oh! Miss Waters, yes-- why don't you sit there, beside Simone?"

She gestured a seat near the front, and Simone took my elbow to direct me.

More kids were now starting to file in through the door, mostly in trios or duos, talking and laughing through armloads of books and binders. I took to watching them, because Simone was rifling for a moment through her binder. I noticed several kids who reminded me of ones I had known in Utah-- they all seemed so casual, which of course was alien to me, this being a new school. I felt naked and out of place, like they were all part of some community where maybe I wasn't welcome, didn't belong.

"'Sup, Wulz!"

The call wasn't friendly at all, but jeering. I could hear snickers from behind it, and when I turned my head towards the door I could see a group of tall boys, probably Seniors, shuffling hastily from view.

"Hey, Simmy, baby, come outa there!" the same smooth voice called, laughing.

"Wherefore art thou, Simmy?" Another voice mocked, and the other voices cackled.

"Shut up," the first voice chortled.

There was a screech as Simone shoved her chair back, leaping to her feet.

"Go sculpt a girlfriend out of mud, perv!" she called, smirking, and sat back down.

"Ohhhhh!" The boys erupted like a volcano of laughter.

"You heard her-- evaporate," a new voice snapped, nearer to the door than the others.

"Hey, Hold, wussup?" the first---the perv--- scoffed.

"Awwww, maaaan," whined another, mocking disappointment.

And their laughter faded, melting into the roar of a chattering student body. I turned, blinking, to look at Simone.

She flashed me an apologetic smile.

"Heh. Sorry... Guess you met the jerk on my locker."

"Hey, Simone."  
I recognized the voice-- it was our hero, the conquorer of the thugs. Simone and I both turned.

He stood about as tall as I, a green and gold basketball jersey over a black tea shirt and matching basketball shorts hanging down past his knees. His azure-lime eyes were almost eletric, his hair was golden-brown and perfectly straight, quite long around his brow and ears-- I could picture him walking into Gran's house to be welcomed by her shrill scream: she would have taken one look at his long bangs before grabbing a fistful, slamming him down on the counter, and using a butcher knife to annihilate three inches of it in short, murderous strokes. I happened to like it's length, the way it didn't flip or wave like other boys' hair but was just totally straight all the way down.

"Oh, hey, Holden," Simone said cheerfully. "You guys clean house last night at the Timberline game?"  
"Need I describe the brutal scene of conquest?" he said dramatically, raising an eyebrow, and then he caught my gaze-- He smiled at me with a sort of pure teenage exhilaration that I had learned to value: it was nice to have a break from all those corrupted souls.

"Hey-- You new?" His greeting was kind, excited, so much like Simone's had been.

"Yeah," I said timidly, but not holding back a smile. "I'm Kade."

"Tight," he said, cracking his knuckles over his chest-- Two sweatbands, one green and the other white, were over his wrists.

"This is Holden," Simone said to me. "Some sports freak I happen to know."

"Thanks," Holden said sarcastically, and shot me another smile.

"You play basketball?"  
I shook my head quickly. "No, I'm pretty athletically challenged."

Simone laughed.

"Ah, come on, everyone's good at some kind of sport," she said.

"You _watch_ basketball?" Holden asked, now making his way to my side.

I giggled uncharacteristically. "Nope."

He shook his head, blinking, but still smiling.

"Dang. Well, I guess I won't hold it against you-- I'm sure you've got your reasons. I once thought it was unhealthy to obsess over stuff, but..."  
He motioned his jersey, and I nodded, understanding.

"Though, you can't necessarily call Holden a jock," Simone said humorously. "He kind of lacks the--- everything."

Holden shook his head, holding back a laugh, while I chuckled into my fist.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah--"  
"You want me to name the qualities that differentiate you?" Simone said, holding up her hands inevitably.

"Okay. One, you're way too girl-crazy. Two, you're a hundred pounds less--"  
"All right, all right, shut up!" Holden didn't resist a laugh this time and shoved her in the side of the head. At that moment, the tardy bell rang-- there was a great rumbling as students hurried to their seats. Holden shot me one last smile and then slid backwards a few rows where he plopped into his seat, just two diagonal from Simone's.

Mrs. Wulsy rose like a swan before the class, and I turned quick to face her, not wanting to offend her apparent enthusiasm. I had left Holden still smiling at me-- I think I could feel his gaze on my back.

"All right, everyone-- Mr. Glacen, sign the tardy log please-- _ehp_, no excuses!-- All right. Before we get started, I would like to introduce a new student in our class..."

I bit my lip, forgetting this part, and wondered what Seth was doing right now-- being cool? Being shy? Indifferent?

Pff. Is that a trick question? He was probably riding in on a golden chariot dressed like a Pharaoh.

"This is Kade Waters, here from Utah."

I saw her hand pass over me and I thought I turned red, it was hard to tell--

"Kade, will you wave to everyone, please?"  
I chuckled, throwing my hand out, as well as my gaze, which briskly scanned the other students, all of their eyes on me, before I retreated to grin with Simone.

"Excellent-- she is a very bright young lady and I hope we can all extend to her our _best_ hands of fellowship. Now, if you would all please take out your graphic map assignment... Miss Waters, you're in the clear for this one... Yes, please, everyone, go on and get that out--"

She talked some more, for about five minutes, but I wasn't listening...

Something hit me on the knuckles-- I looked down in surprise to see a piece of paper folded like a tabletop football: my name was written on it's surface.

I glanced over my shoulder, past Simone's arched back, to meet Holden's eyes. He winked, fingering a ball-point pen.

I had to smile back, taking the note under the table where I could read it.

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The period seemed to sweep past like a dream, and before I knew it I was outside, exchanging good-bye's with Simone as we prepared to go our separate ways.

"Yeah, so Room 240 is just down this hall, past that drinking fountain," she was saying, directing my gaze with an outstretched finger.

"Ohhhh-- kay," I said, seeing it, and smiling at her.

"Thanks."  
"No problem. What lunch hour do you have?"  
"Um... today, I have second."

"Same as me! You find Holden and I outside, okay? We'll be waiting for you-- just right out the double doors."

"Okay--" I said, taking in a little too much for my first-day-of-school mind. "Sure, yeah."  
"Kay, sounds tight! See yah, Kade."  
"Yeah, see yah."  
Holden appeared suddenly behind her, smiling at me and giving a wave.

"Bye, Kade."  
"Bye--" I didn't really know how to respond, as Simone caught him by the wrist, spun his back to me, and lead him off into the halls, talking fast.

I watched them for a moment, feeling happy, and then turned towards where Simone had directed me.

And ran right into an aqua shirt. Stunned, I looked up, apologetic--

But it was Seth.

"Woah!" he said, pointing at me and arranging his eyebrows in a sort of Christopher Lloyd fashion. "Have we met?"  
I slapped his hand away.

"You almost made me say 'sorry' to you."  
"Ouch!" He clutched his heart, wincing. "It burns!"

"How you doing?"

"Me?" He lifted an eyebrow, swaying on the spot like a stupid pimp. "Now, not so hasty-- you checkin' me out?"  
"Ugh, just get away from me..." I brushed past him.

"It's the earrings, isn't it?" he said over his shoulder. "My Gran hates them too-- you should have seen her the night I--"

"Shut up!" I called back, and he turned away, laughing.

------------

Somehow, I was able to wiggle through the next two periods. Advanced Literature had come to me like breathing-- it was a shy pleasure of mine, writing, and luckily they were due to start a new project at the end of next week, so all I had to do was get a feel for the students, teacher, and classroom, and then, after I had adjusted, I'd be tossed into writing projects I so insanely enjoyed. Honestly, sometimes I didn't think I knew myself.

Recreational Bowling had been just plain awkward-- I'd always disliked the P.E. programs at public schools, so when I saw this on the registration form, advertized as a sort of 'different experience', I had clung to it like a life line. I liked being active-- actually, it went more accurately to say I enjoyed anything active in the water. Boating, swimming, wind surfing... I loved them all, so when I thought of bowling, I assumed it to be a release from team sports, which I detested, and a step in the direction I enjoy.

The teacher and activity had been fine-- it was the other kids there that had me on edge: an all-girl class, as I was expecting, and every single one was the kind of diva I pictured sentencing me to a clique or coolness level. So there I was, in dorky P.E. clothes, surrounded by girls who seemed to need to stare at me with judgmental eyes as much as they needed to eat and sleep. Those were the longest eighty minutes of my life, and I was thrilled to finally be out when the lunch bell rang.

The cafeteria was a total free-for-all: while the concept of a single file line was totally and irrevocably ignored, it also seemed that anyone smaller than the six-foot-seven Samoan twelfth-graders and any less popular than a lead-role drama student wasn't permitted ten feet from a touch of the trays-- that is, until everyone else who qualified under those rules had gotten through first. I, for one, had to go out of my way to appear unangered by the situation-- I guess that made four hundred and _one_ for the loser count.

When at last I had collected what food I wanted, I bolted from the cramped, earsplitting cafeteria as quickly as I could, stepping over outstretched legs like I was at an NFL training camp, inventing detours around tables packed with five times their chair capacity... The conversations were rippling in levels from the first-row friends at the table to the second-row friends, and then to a few third-row stragglers hanging off the ends. I rolled my eyes as I passed, wanting to tell the second-and-third-level friends to rebel and start their own pack.

As I stepped out into the hallway, a group of boys hanging out on the main staircase caught my eye. It was about a hundred feet to my left, so they were only a couple inches tall and I couldn't hear anything they were saying, but after a moment of studying them, I realized what they were doing.

There were about five of them, probably a gang of skaters using the lunch hour as an excuse to sluff classes, and they were taking turns sliding down one of the banisters that lead down the stairs. The banisters were more like poles bent at the ends and drilled into the ground, so I could see how they would feel an instinctive urge to skate down them on their feet like a ramp at a skate park. They laughed together, shouting muffled words I couldn't decipher, taking off their shoes and balancing on the railing, setting their butt down too for support, and inching down slowly, getting faster and faster till they could pull their hands away and be forced to fall off at the end. They were boys, so they didn't have to be graceful--- and the stairs were carpet, so I wasn't really worried about any of them falling and splitting their heads open.

One from among them stood out as the champ: he had the best balance, or at least could look the most graceful, as he leapt off from the edge, or got a little more speed than the others, or could take his hands away a few seconds earlier... I stalled just a little longer, waiting to catch his finale, as he approached the top of the banister again, getting ready to mount...

Something on the staircase to his left, the one ascending up in my direction to the second floor, caught his attention. And he began scoffing and jeering even louder. His buddies below looked up to investigate--- as soon as they caught what was going on, they joined in his crowing.

I watched as another figure appeared, clearly the center of their attention. The only characteristic I could differentiate him from the others with was his hair: it was considerably darker than the rest.

The newest edition stood by for a moment and the groups' jeers fell quiet: I assumed he and the ramp-pro were having a talk, seeing as they were looking at eachother, but it hadn't been long before the boys at the bottom of the stairs burst into laughter again. With waving hands they beckoned their buddy to join them as they began to stalk off down the hall.

The newcomer stood by with his hands in his sweater pockets as the pro hopped on the banister and slid down pretty fashionably, still teetering a little and having to fling rather stupidly towards the end. But hey, like I said, he was a guy, so he didn't need to be graceful around his friends. (Just his enemies. Boys are so weird.)

I watched for a moment longer as the group slowly faded down the hallway. I sighed shortly and was about to turn back to the double doors when something else caught my attention.

The newcomer had remained pretty still but now broke his form, walking slowly to the end of the banister. I couldn't see him very well, but it looked like he'd extended a hand to massage the curve in the metal.

Then, suddenly, without any warning, he swung himself up onto the railing like a cat. I honestly had no idea how he did it--- I would have asked for a replay button if there had been one available.

The boy was crouched, feet perched on the slim banister, his hand supporting him, until he'd got his balance. Slowly he rose to a stand--- I couldn't believe he was actually standing up on that thing, it was only a couple inches wide, wasn't it? Maybe less!

But I wasn't surprised anymore when down he went--- he glided, hands in his pockets, legs perfectly straight, all the way down the railing like he'd done it a million times before. Compared to him, the other group of boys now looked like total morons. He didn't teeter or anything, nothing, just a statue sliding perfectly down an assembly line. When he reached the end, his feet lightly sprung him forward and he landed firmly on the floor.

Then he turned, shoulders somewhat hunched, and made his way down the hall in the direction of the skater gang.

----------

As I stepped out the double doors onto the school grounds, the sun pretty much seared my retinas right off, and I made my way blindly to a tree that was less populated than most. There, regaining my sight, I glanced around for Simone. Out here, it was much calmer: off near the parking lot, eleventh-grade boys stripped to bare chests were enjoying a grueling game of two-hand-touch football, turning the heads of pretty mcuh all the surrounding girls; as much as I'm ashamed to admit it, I just _had_ to allow myself a second glance at a _few_ of them-- one or two, but no more, I promise. Jeez.

"Kade!

My heart leapt for a familiar voice-- Simone and Holden were under a tree farther down the lawn, waving at me. A few other kids sat with them, and I prayed they were as friendly as the two I knew. Quickly I made my way to them, feeling slightly awkward crossing the grass alone, but settled when I had folded into the shade of the tree.

"I was afraid I wouldn't find you!" I said, laughing, setting down myself and my stuff in the grass before Simone. "How did you guys get out here so fast?"

"We cheat," Simone said, shrugging guiltily. "We have a classroom right by the cafeteria. Always the first ones there."  
"You wanna swap schedules?" I asked, and she laughed.

"Luck of the draw," Holden said, laughing with us, his eyes mostly on me. "Hey, Kade."  
"Hi, Holden," I said, selling him a smile, and then dug ferociously into my food. I realized how hungry I was-- all that material insignificance in my bowling class had really roused an appetite. As I ate, I was introduced to the three girls sitting around Simone and Holden: Karly, Leslie, and Alexis-- Leslie was Simone's cousin. They all looked alike, Simone and her friends... hm. Cool.

When I was done being a pig, I sat back on my hands and let Simone do the talking. She launched into giving me a heated low-down of a few key-characters to the school.

"... And then there's Aeva Ashborne--"

"Oh, man, evil at it's finest," Holden said dramatically.

"A word much out of expression, I can assure you," Simone said bitterly, fidgeting with her nails. "We'll spare inexpressiveness and let you get the whole picture for yourself the more you see of her... if you've broken any mirrors, that is."

"Yeah, anyone who crosses her path has probably received the omen of death recently," Holden said, lying down on his back, his knees bent at Simone's side. He grinned up at me, upside-down, his bangs slipped back to fully reveal his face.

"The girl's the devil, we'll just give you that as a starter fact," Simone said.

I felt my gut squirm.

"What's her name, again?"  
"Aeva Ashborne," Simone said, as if she was speaking of a disgusting food item. "Her dad is--"

"Dude, Simone, stop talking about the guy already!" Holden snapped suddenly. "Gosh, as if we haven't got enough--"  
"His existence is cursed around here," Simone explained to me, indifferent to Holden's remarks.

"Why? Who is he?" I asked.

"When did you move in?" Holden asked me before Simone could speak.

I shrugged. "I don't know, a week ago...?"  
"Oh, then you probably don't know much about him..."

"Who is he?" I asked Simone again, growing interested.

"Well," Simone said, "around here, employment is really bad. Oliver Ashborne, Aeva's dad... He's the founder of this huge marketing company that's been squashing any freemen businesses over the last few years. Last semester, twenty kids came to school saying their dads had lost jobs all in the same night, all because of Big Shot Mr. Ashborne. So, yeah, you get the gist of it..."

"Wow..." I said, pulling my legs against my chest. "I guess Aeva has it rough."

"Are you kidding?" Holden laughed. "Aeva's the definition of Daddy's Girl. She'll stand back at laugh at kids who sulk around because they're gonna have to relocate or get summer jobs to help support their family."

"She's sick, and other sick kids flock to her like a demonic charity," Simone said nastily. "Just steer clear of her, and you'll get the best of this school."  
"What does she look like?" I asked, growing edgy.

"Oh, you'll know her when you see her," Holden said. "And the ironic thing is--- she's a sophomore, like us."  
"Half the kids in the school could pummel her if they wanted to," Simone said, sounding indignant, "they just don't want their parents to get busted by her Fire Lord daddy."

I grinned. "Fire Lord?"

"Yeah," Simone said, chuckling. "Kids around here call him that because his company is spreading like wildfire, at least in this county. Today California, tomorrow the world!"

I laughed with Holden and the other girls: I wondered what fire we were actually playing with, bad-mouthing apparently the most powerful people besides the government-- I decided I couldn't really care less. Gran didn't work in businesses. I felt safe, for the time being.

"Yeah..." Simone said when the laughter had subsided. "Well, Aeva's got a big brother--"

"Hey, guys, look!" Holden interrupted, pointing over the lawn. We turned, following his finger, until we saw the commotion. It was around the east wall of the school, down farther towards the parking lot, but we were in the right position to see it. A dozen or so small shapes of kids were packed together in a sort of huddle-- raised voices could be heard. More attention was attracted, students running from the huddle towards the school... A moment later, two new figures had arrived, those I could make out to be teachers or administrators, who pushed their way through the huddle. Shouting grew louder, and in my peripheral vision, I saw more heads around us turn to investigate. The huddle was breaking-- soon it parted, and the teachers emerged with two figures at their hands... Tall, both boys as far as I could tell, one seeming to fight his restraint, and the other yeilding to his captor as if pleased to do so.

"What do you think is the fuss?" Holden said with a hint of humor, still staring at the commotion.

"I don't know, but I hope neither of those two is my brother," I said carefully, wincing at the scene.

"You have a brother?" Simone said, turning to look at me. Clearly she was unimpressed by teenage boys in a fight.

"Yeah, his name's Seth-- he's a junior."  
"Does _he_ play basketball?" Holden asked, turning to glance at me.

"Shut up, Holden," Simone said impatiently, giving him a light slap in the back of the head.

The two boys were now being lead by the administrators to the east doors of the school-- when they stepped out of eyesight, Holden let out an amused sigh.

"Well-- I think I've had my fill. You guys want to come with me down to the courts?"

"So we can watch you shoot hoops?" Simone said, lifting an eyebrow. "Wow, that sounds awesome."

"Just an invite," Holden said, rolling his eyes, gathering his leftovers from the grass. As he stood, he shot me another smile.

"See yah later, Kade."

"See yah, Holden," I said, and he walked past me back towards the entrance doors. I turned back to Simone.

"Were you saying something?" I asked her.

She stared at me for a moment, thoughtful, and then laughed.

"I can't remember what I was saying!"

I laughed with her.

"That's fine. You want to show me around the school a little?"  
"I'd love to," she said, standing with me. Leslie, Karly, and Alexis followed suit.

"I'll see you fourth period, Simone!" Karly said, leading the others away.

"See yah!" Simone called after them, waving, and then turning back to me.

"All right. Let's go."

And she lead me across the grass.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N**: Hope you guys are liking it so far!! I'm having fun with this, slipping little hints here and there... I just hope this doesn't take a thousand chapters like 'Moist Candles'... well, we'll see! (Karly, Leslie, and Alexis are Kyoshi warriors incase you didn't get that... hehe) Thanx so much for reading-- I LOVE reviews!!!


	3. Chapter 3: Inner Kades

3: INNER KADES

**A/N**: Egh, i don't want to stretch this fic out, so you're lucky, there won't be too many waiting periods! (as far as events in the story go...) Thanx so much for reading guys!! I LOVE your reviews!

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After that first day, Seth had spent all of dinner filling us in on the sort of things he had found interesting-- the girls, the lockers, the girls, the food, the girls. I had only found amusement in Gran: her suspicion for Seth's behavior had reached priceless levels. But despite the humor at her reactions, I wasn't about to sit around and get a full description of the bimbos Seth had seen-- Clearing my place, I grabbed an ice cream bar from the freezer and made my way upstairs to my room.

Taking my place by the window, I looked out at the ocean. I don't know how many minutes passed... I could hear Seth and Gran in the kitchen below, friendly-arguing, cleaning up the rest of dinner. (Well, Gran was cleaning up, Seth was probably eating out of a carton of ice cream.) I took a few bites at my bar, getting a cheek-freeze at first and wincing until it passed.

A pleasant chime went off in my purse-- Gran's phone. Yes, I'm a loser, I don't have on of my own-- Gran was just letting me use this one for the first few weeks to help "make friends". Taking it, I flopped down on my bed, propped by a pillow, and flipped the phone open.

"Hello?"  
_"Hey, Kade? It's Simone."_  
"Oh, hey!" I had forgotten we had exchanged numbers after lunch.

_"What's up with your bad self?"_  
I shrugged, taking another lick at the ice cream bar.

"Not much. You?"  
_"A little brother high on laffy taffys. How's your schedule looking tomorrow?"_  
I laughed. "Um, let's see, nothing, nothing, and nothing."

_"Sweet. So Holden and I are going with my little brother ,A.J., to the new Paedregin movie-- you wanna catch us there?"_  
I grinned, even though she couldn't see it.

"Yeah, I'd love to. What time?"

_"It starts a five-- second show house, just at that one theater down the street from the church."_  
"Right, yeah. So, cool, I'll be there!"  
_"Tight. See yah, Kade. Oh, and Holden says hi."_

I chuckled. "Ask him 'what's up' for me. Bye, Simone."

_"Be there!"_

I slapped the phone shut-- just as my door opened and Seth leaned in like a curious orangutan, clutching, as I suspected, a carton of Sherbet ice cream.

"Ooooh, you talking to a cute boy you met today?" he asked, feeding himself another spoonful.

"You jealous?" I said, licking my own bar.

"Ew," he said, and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a scrap of paper.

"Nah, I got enough of my opposite gener for a few weeks. But seriously, who were you talking to?"  
"Why do you care?"  
He snorted. "Can I be curious?"  
I sighed, brandishing the phone like a grenade.

"My friend Simone Kyler. She's inviting me to a movie tomorrow."

"Ohhh," Seth said, nodding. "Is she hot?"

"And you're asking _me_? Just get lost, you boob."

He shrugged. "Fine, leave a desperate guy in the dark. That's cool."

He made a fake sob as he shut the door behind him.

---------------

The next day, biology was really interesting. In the ironic-but-not-quite-sarcastic-yet-humorous sense. The teacher was some young guy with tiny glasses, Mr. Earl-- he seemed the kind that would have gotten bullied to the moon and back when he was in high school. But his enthusiasm for the subject was relieving, as he was pleased to fill me in on everything we had learned-- (though it had taken the first thirty minutes of the class, me growing redder and redder every second. After the class, several kids, mostly boys, had thanked me for the delay.) He was the kind that would assume anyone in his class was there because they shared his burning passion for biology, the "miracle of life, the incomprehensible adventure from cell to creature!" Nah, he's a cool guy... just a little oblivious to anything that doesn't live on photosynthesis or doesn't have an evolutionary background.

My second class of the day would be T.A.'ing for Mr. Kohlan, who was somewhere downstairs in room 157.

I pretty much screwed up just getting there.

I had gotten lost, again, having to stop in by the office for a little help finding his room. Apparently a conduit of rooms were hidden in these little, almost invisible, hallway curcuits on either side of the school. Wow, so that's where half of the room numbers went! Disgruntled, and _ten minutes late_, I finally found my way around the conduit and started for his room about ten paces ahead.

Someone else had turned the other corner, and was heading slowly in my direction. I didn't look up, but tried not to appear as flustered as I was. The figure was getting bigger, and I was wondering when it would turn and pass me--

My hand collided with another as we both extended to grab the doorknob.

Startled, I looked up to my left--

Okay, he looked familiar... for some reason I couldn't put my finger on. Where had I seen that hair before...?

He was a pale boy... Yes, then I remembered! He was the one who had run into me in the office the day before. He was staring at me not in shock but in a sort of confusion. I realized we were shoulder to shoulder-- I instantly let go of his hand, stepping back, not knowing exactly what he was expecting me to do.

One hazel-gold eye stared into mine from under his long, rugged black bangs. I felt something turn in the pit of my stomach: the embarrassment, the shock... What was that on the other side of his face?

"Sorry," he said in the same scratchy, quiet voice I remembered. He let go of the door, standing back, his face still tilted to only allow me a glimpse of one side. (His hair compensated for some of the discretion too.) A tight black sweater was unzipped halfway down his chest, revealing a maroon shirt underneath with a ripped neck hole.

I swallowed, shaking my head, glancing away fleetingly.

"You're fine. Go in."

"You," he said, nodding towards the door, and I suddenly realized how tall he was as I stepped in front of him, feeling his stare on the back of my head, and opened the door to enter.

Mr. Kohlan's class was for juniors-- I knew now the boy's grade, as he had been _coming_ here-- and as I entered, every single head turned to acknowledge me. I felt my face warm-- the boy and I brushed again as he slipped past me into the room.

I tried my hardest not to meet anyone's eyes (though they seemed to scald me like I had touched an oven unit) and looked right to the front at the man I assumed to be Mr. Kohlan. He was a tall man, a little belly tucked into his belt, with freckled, dark skin and a tired yet charismatic posture.

"Ah--" he said, and his voice made the boy's sound rich. It's coarse, cold edge sang to me half a lifetime of smoking cigarettes-- He had a pinched, aging face, perfectly shaven, contorted as he attempted to make me out. The gray-white hair on his balding head was flipped and messy somewhat like the portraits of Beethoven. He lifted a lumpy finger, pointing past me to the boy.

"Mr. Ashborne, sign the tardy log. One more, and you're suspended. I'm not putting up with this all year.

The name hit me like a slap-- I moved quickly out of the boy's way as he swept past me towards the far wall.

"Don't want Daddy Demon roasting you again," A smirking boy said from the other end of the room, and snickers rippled throughout the rows of students.

"That'll be enough, Corvin," Mr. Kohlan said with sort of a bored menace, glaring.

"You're right, we want him roasting _you_," the Ashborne boy muttered under his breath, staring hard into the tardy log.

"I said that will be enough," Mr. Kohlan growled more loudly as two boys started in a low chorus of 'oooh's.

His finger moved back to me, and his beady eyes squinted.

"And are you in this class?"  
"No, I..." I swallowed, fumbling for words, "I'm your new T.A."

"Oh, I see," Mr. Kohlan said, nodding, and he made his way to his desk which was pushed to the far left of the room. His strides were slow, somewhat lanky, like a cowboy's struts: coincidentally, I noticed the snakeskin boots under his jeans.

He pulled out the chair at his desk, and waved a lazy finger at it.

" Sit," he instructed hoarsely, turning away and massaging his lips as if wishing for a drag of smoke. I hurried to the seat, feeling gazes slowly slip away, and tried to hide myself behind his computer.

The Ashborne boy made his way down the isle and sat in the very first desk from Mr. Kohlan's, three feet from the computer. We might have never parted, he seemed still so close.

"Right," Mr. Kohlan said in undertone, "I don't have anything for you to do yet, so just hold tight for a minute and don't touch anything."

He didn't sound mean, or even strict-- he was just telling me the basics. I nodded, staring at him, though he didn't return my gaze. His brow was drawn as if troubled-- he turned away back to address the class, fingering his belt, still massaging his lips.

"As I was saying, you need to understand the fundamentals of the training before you undergo it completely..."  
He talked on, and I tried my hardest to appear casual. I dared to lean back in the chair, slowly gaining confidence as he continued talking. I sighed quietly and turned the chair slightly to the right--

And saw the Ashborne boy head-on. His face was bowed slightly, staring somewhere over the top of his desk, but despite that, despite the fact that his long bangs were practically hiding his eyes, I could see it.

The scar was pink, almost red, and encircled his entire left eye, from the peek of his cheekbone into the bangs on his brow. I watched it's end receed back on his skin and cover his left ear too. All the skin was crumpled, reminding me of tissue paper, and as he rotated his head I could see it folding, like one great eye socket drooping down his cheek. I felt my breath catch in my throat and also was suddenly ashamed for looking at it-- obviously it wasn't anything he was proud of. Who would be? It wasn't horrific, just disturbing. Forbidding, not fully telling the unpleasant tale behind it, only allowing enough information out to spook us. I found myself thinking I wouldn't want to know how it had gotten there. In the end, I confirmed it perhaps from fire or acid or some other dangerous chemical. But the only way to really be sure would be to ask him, and that was the last thing I was about to do.

The boy's eyes shifted suddenly, his left one scrunched amid the baked skin of his scar, the right one blazing a hot butterscotch, and met mine. There was no questioning what was behind his gaze-- He had known I was looking at him, and was there to challenge me.

My eyes jumped away, down to my binder. Ugh, what was going on, what was I doing? I instantly became ticked about the whole situation, worried. This class was the last place I wanted to be, with this unapproachable teacher and all these older kids staring at me like I was dressed as a clown.

Desperate for somewhere to stick my eyes, I looked at the computer screen. The window open was the roll list, a big graph marking tardies and absences and assignment scores.

_Zane Ashborne_ was the very first name. I didn't dare look at him again, but I didn't want to think about his eye either, so I looked away from his name entirely, down at the desk.

A stack of graded papers sat beside the keyboard. _Zane Ashborne_, written in spidery boys' handwriting, was the first atop the pile.

My gaze jumped away again, me growing irritated, and soon I decided to rifle through my binder for whatever reason, just for something to do. I would be relieved when lunch came-- I could find Simone and Holden and forget about this stupid situation I'd gotten myself in. Why had I done that, just taking up a random class, a random teacher, like it was picking a foreign food item on a restaraunt menu...?

Like playing with fire.

Fire...

He must've gotten it from fire, I mean, I'd gotten burns before on my hands, it looked like it had been charred...

Hold it! Don't think about his scar! That's rude, it's just as bad as staring at it--

I looked right at it.

Rrrr, I _hate_ me!

Again, he met my eyes, and _again_, I had to look away like some dumb idiot.

_This_ was going to be a fun class.

But something else caught my attention as I made my stupid attempt to avert my gaze-- I realized I wasn't the only one staring at him... but I _was_ the only one staring at him without a gleam of contempt. As I glanced at the faces of kids in the row beside him, farther up behind him, (he was in the first seat of the first row, poor guy...) I could see something nasty shape their expressions, like he had just snapped some cuss word at them. All in all, there were only about three kids staring at him, but the intensity of their apparent dislike was enough to tell me one thing: this kid, Zane, what I had so _conveniently_ uncovered as his name, wasn't the most popular you'd come across.

I wondered why...

Zane _Ashborne_. Well... That said enough.

------------

Lunch came at last, and if I had been any closer to the door, no one would have seen me leave. Without even a last glance or word from Mr. Kohlan, I bolted as if pulled by a magnetic force. I had definitely learned my late-lesson in that classroom. I certainly didn't want to be late out.

I was downstairs this time so I got to the lunch lines faster-- instead of a twelve minute wait, there was only a seven minute wait. Not much when you do the math, but it felt like a century's difference. I threw food onto the tray without a second glance-- I was too psyched to care what I got, as long as I got some food. In a minute at least, I was out of the line and heading across the crowded floor-- That feeling came over me, the naked exposure I detested. I suddenly was afraid Simone wouldn't have this lunch period-- growing frantic, boiling in the oven of packed humanity, I hurried towards the double doors, practically jogging--

I ran straight into a black sweater. My salad turned over, spilling ranch dressing all over everything else I had picked out, over my fingers-- You know those moments when you just want to be annoyed? Yeah, it was one of those moments for me.

I glared straight up into Zane Ashborne's narrowed eyes.

At first, the sight of his scar blanked out all other thoughts, the guilty ones creeping back into my head, and then I blinked, demanding they leave. When my mind focused-- I saw he was glaring at me, too.

"Do you have a thing for running into people?" I snapped. It _had_ been the third time, after all. I knew nothing about him, had never seen his face until today, and yet it felt like I had known him my whole life, like he was this boy next door I could just get mad at for the smallest reasons.

"What if I was about to ask you the same thing?" he said slowly back, as quiet and hoarsely as ever. I glared through his long bangs, huffing and shaking my head. But dang, he was so much better at glaring than I was. As I passed his shoulder, I turned back just by impulse and muttered,

"Well, I guess it's because you only have one eye to see out of, don't you?"

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, before I could even think to forbear. Even in my foul mood, I instantly regretted saying anything, thought I didn't show it-- I was being selfish, and proud of it. I wanted him to stop crashing into me like we were on rush hour all the time.

But the minute I read the look in his eyes, I felt my stomach sink. He was going to hit me, I just knew it. I am such an idiot! Why did I have to say that? I didn't even know him! Looking back on it now, I can't believe I was so vulnerable to bitterness. Somehow I managed to get by without apologizing. Just imagine that! Being so irritated you didn't even correct mistakes you know you had made. It sounds easy now, but then, it was a whole different ball game.

I saw him swallow, his hands tremble in fists. It was hard to know exactly how the remark had impacted him-- I saw some of everything in his eyes: anger, hurt, sadness, annoyance... The real me wanted to shrink into the ground and just get away before he killed me. But the other side, the one I'm now ashamed of, held my ground, almost _wanting_ him to fight back.

"I know I have a scar on my eye," he said quietly, almost inaudibly. "You don't have to tell me."

I felt myself blanch in disbelief.

And with that, he turned into the cafeteria and melted into the crowd as if by magic.

------------

As expected, the next two periods passed as if they didn't exist. I was just dreaming for the rest of the day-- nothing would dispel the squirm in my gut. I had even socked myself in the stomach, as if physical force would banish guilt, but yeah, that's one for the Stupidity books. People have lead me to believe that procrastinating is about putting off events or chores-- psh. Right. Like, what on earth do they know? Every second that passed since I had spat that totally unacceptable comment at Zane Ashborne had only multiplied my guilt by ten. The algebra teacher would have had way too much fun calculating how much more shame I could handle before I would explode.

And dang it, I didn't want to feel sorry about it! I didn't want to be bothered by this all day! It was just a little remark, big deal! Everyone makes mistakes! And he hadn't gotten mad at me or anything--

Okay. Now that was just stupid. I can't believe I thought that.

Well, even if he was angry, he just waved it off, didn't he? So no big deal. If he can, why can't I?

If the two terms 'pathetic' and 'self-denial' could be combined in the dictionary to sport a single definition, you'd find the picture of me, and a small illustration underneath of my inner selves: the demonic one, fighting to let the eye comment fly, the angelic one, fighting for an apology, and the human-like one, lost in total confusion. (So, in other words, a complete waste of space.) I guess that made _me_ a waste of space too. Ugh. I was starting to feel sick...

Luckily, (Yes! It was lucky! Don't tell me it wasn't lucky! Darn you, quit acting so superior, you stupid Angelic Inner Self!) I didn't see him anymore for the rest of that day. I didn't think I would: I was a sophomore, he was a junior-- we basically thrived in different ends of the school. Despite that, I kept my eyes out for him, ready to dodge him at any second he appeared-- (DON'T EVEN START, YOU STUPID ANGELIC INNER SELF, OR SO HELP ME, I'LL FIND AWAY TO GET INSIDE MY OWN HEAD AND STRANGLE YOU!) but, as I expected, he didn't appear.

And then, just as I was starting to relax, I realized with cold dread that every other day I would be helping out in his period.

(You are so dead, you pixie.)

I don't think anyone was more relieved to get home when the 2:30 bell rang than my Demonic Inner Self and me. I literally snatched Seth out of the air, dragging him to his car like it was a kidnap by force.

"Kade-- erfgh, Kade, let go!"

I wrenched open the car door, threw him on the wheel, then marched around the hood to my own side, where I dropped into my seat like a block of granite.

As Seth got his legs and arms in the right place, running a hand through his ruffled hair, he gaped at me, panting--

"If you don't start this car in ten seconds, I'm going to scream," I said, my tone death.

"Dude-- what is going _on_?"  
"You wanna know?" I barked. "All right, fine, you win! I'll give you one word: BOY!"

And the light descended upon him like the opening of inspiration's gates.

"I know exactly how you feel," he said seriously, putting a hand all disciplinary-like on the top of my seat.

"Do you feel you're emotionally prepared for a coquette's existence? Maybe you should wait a few more years."

"Start... the... _car_," I said through my teeth, and I hated him for smiling as he revved the engine.

------------

Gran didn't need much explanation-- I think Seth was all over it, acting like some kind of counselor, shooting Gran one of those concerned, sympathetic looks on my behalf-- I grabbed a bag of popcorn from the pantry, totally ignoring them both, ripped the wrapping open, and started it in the microwave. Leaning against the counter, I noticed in my peripheral vision the same magazine Seth had shown me the day before-- the advertisement about the rookie motorcycler was still open. I could distinguish the picture from where I sat, and just as I was feeling like reading the article, Gran swept it up blindly in one of her brisk counter-top-clean-ups.

Catching my eye from drooping eyelids, she raised an eyebrow and brandished the magazine, looking at me quizzically.

"You want to read this?" she asked.

I sighed, hearing the popcorn pop, and shook my head.

"No. Since when do I read stuff like that?"  
"Don't ask me," Gran said, shaking her head as if exasperated, and then threw it along with a few more loose papers into the garbage bin beside the counter.

As she straightened, she studied my face again until I caught her eye.

"What?" I asked.

She shrugged. "You feeling okay?"

I grimaced. "Please, Gran, I'm fine. I thought you knew better than to believe anything Seth says."

She chuckled.

"Oh, yeah. Seth!"

From across the living room, over the sound of ESPN, Seth called,

"Cha!"

"You're full of hot air!"

"Thank you! You're not the first girl to notice!"  
Despite my mood, I had to share a chuckle with Gran. Giving me one last smile, she turned and hobbled from the kitchen. Just for something to do until the popcorn was done, I turned to the sink and filled a glass of water.

"Oh, hey! Kade!"

Seth emerged from the living room, sticking his head around the wall, like if he fully left the perimeter of the television, something physically terrible would happen.

"Did you see that fight yesterday?"  
I snorted.

"So what? It's just a bunch of dumb boys cat-fighting."  
"_Cat-fighting_?" Seth said, laughing incredulously. "Apparently that's a 'no, I didn't see it'."

"No I didn't, I'm mature," I said, raising the glass to my lips. "Well, then, what of it?"  
Seth laughed again, shaking his head.

"Dude... that Ashborne kid? He cleaned that punk up so bad..."

I inhaled water down my trachea like a total dork and burst into mad coughs, trying to clear my lungs, spilling water all over my knuckles.

"You okay, kiddo?" Gran said, starting forward. I held up my hand, still hacking like a lunatic, until at last I heaved a huge breath of oxygen, revived.

"Yeah," I wheezed, basically possessing no voice at all. "So, what were you saying, Seth?"  
Seth chuckled and continued.

"Yeah, so the Ashborne kid was gonna get, like, suspended for life, but then he made them believe that he was defending himself, so they let him off the hook with just a detention!"

I blinked the tears from my eyes that had collected during my spasm.

"He was defending himself? From who?"

"Ah, some other kid about his age... don't know a lot about him."  
"So where did you find all this out?" I croaked, wiping my eyes.

"Just guys," Seth said casually, shrugging. "Kids I hang out with."  
"Ugh..." Gran groaned, rolling her eyes. "Boys and competition. Mark my words, Kade, if you ever bring home a competitor, I'll..."  
"Trust me, Gran," I said quickly, "I'd rather bring home a toad. So what happened to the other guy?"  
"Oh, yeah," Seth said, grinning. "Well, he was apparently the one who started it-- I think he got detention like Ashborne. Got to know the nurse real well, too."

He let out a laugh.

"Seth!" Gran snapped. "That's not one bit funny--"

"Sorry," Seth said, shrinking back, still grinning. "I just think it's hilarious--- I mean, if you know a guy's gonna beat the tar outa you, why do you challenge him to a fight?"

The microwave beeped, the _pops_ and _crackles_ dying out.

Seth's jaw dropped in offense.

"You hear that?" he said indignantly to Gran. "You hear that microwave bad-mouthing me?"

"Sometimes you deserve more," Gran mumbled, and waved her hand at him as if dismissing a giant fly.

"Now go turn that television down, good _night_..."

I took the bag of popcorn, happy to be unnoticed, and retreated upstairs to my room.

I finally had a reason to lock the door, if not an "okay" reason.

Great. Now the guy I had to apologize to was a gladiator.

-----------

I called Simone-- I didn't have any homework yet, (I don't think many of the teachers cared about my activity in class for a while-- but not like _I_ was complaining) so it was really the only thing to do. I used the portable phone from the kitchen, so as not to spend too many minutes on Gran's cell.

_"Wussup?"  
_"Hey, Simone, it's Kade."

_"Yo! Hey! I was hoping you'd call. I'm heading back from soccer practice. What're you doin'?"  
"_Absolutely nothing, like last time. I need to get a life..."

"_Yeah, whatever, I wish I had as much free time as you. So..."  
_"Yeah, so, I just called 'cause I can. I'm feeling pretty cruddy right now..."  
_"Really, why?"_

She sounded genuinely concerned, and I was so grateful for it. But I still didn't feel like emptying my system was going to help much...

"Awh, it doesn't matter... self-inflicted, I'll get over it."

(Or do something about it...)

...Can someone please hand me some mental duct tape? It's time to shut this Angelic Inner Self up once and for all.

_"Do you want to talk about it?"_

"No. But thanks for asking. Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."  
_"At school, then at the movie, right?"_

"Oh yes, yeah, I'll see you there!"

_"Okay, see yah, Kade."_  
"See yah."

This was going to be a long school year.

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**A/N**: ok, Zane is here. Let the fic begin. And Mr. Kohlan is Koh, incase no one got that... Koh rox!! (and have you ever been in Kade's situation? pff. i have, like, majorly (not a word)... though still haven't done anything about it... DOH!...) ; Thanx for reading guys, reviews are cookeez!!


	4. Chapter 4: High Blow To The Blind Spot

4: HIGH BLOW TO THE BLIND SPOT

**A/N: **So sorry about the delay guys!!-- i went river rafting in Moab-- so much fun!! anywho, here's chapter 4! enjoy!

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So last night, I got to spend some real quality time with my Inner Kades. In other words, purgatory. Somewhere through the torture I felt a passionate wave of sympathy for Pinoccio-- having his conscious around him 24-7! In physical form, with a name and an attitude and everything! I feel your pain, kid.

The next morning was even worse, knowing I would most likely run into Zane again-- (and that's in the literal sense, as I've gathered from experience). I was in the clear on one perspective, seeing as today I wouldn't have my T.A. period, thank everything good in this world... But, of course, in situations like these, you never really know what to expect. Anything could go wrong. The odds were against me-- I'd have to face him again, that was a solid fact. Unless I transferred... no, that wasn't an option. I guess I was just going to have to pray I'd be abducted by aliens before my next B day.

I tried to focus on the bright spots ahead of me-- Today I'd go to the movies with Simone and her little brother-- Adam, was his name? Hm. I did expect Holden would be there, as he's usually hanging around somewhere near Simone. (Heaven forbid I should have the movie experience without crashing into a black sweater and spilling buttery popcorn all over the aisle.)

Oh, man, there went that bright spot.

But I didn't think Zane would go to movies-- I could tell just by what he contributed to class, how others received him, and, of course, how he treated me, that he wasn't the type to phone a buddy and take to the night shows. Still, the possibility was like another dose of guilt I didn't need, haunting the back of my head. I sent my Demonic Inner Self off to beat the snot out of it.

The morning with Gran seemed to pass in a single breath, and before I knew it, I was in the passenger seat of Seth's car, coming up on the school parking lot. Some punk-rock song was playing on the radio-- Seth was mumbling along, moving to the beat a little in his seat while at the same time trying to steak out a parking place.

Peeved, I switched off the music like a punch in the face, right in the middle of the lead singer's raspy scream. Seth, in his obliviousness, sang under his breath the next few lines before realizing there was no recording to back up his voice (grossly out of the tune, by the way). He blinked and stared at me like he didn't know who I was.

"Can we put the claws away, please?" he asked cautiously, an eyebrow lifted, and twisted in his seat to focus on pulling back between two other cars.

"I'm just not in the mood," I grumbled.

"A theory I've conjured," he said absently, and then turned with a bright bounce to twist the key from it's place, silencing the car engine, and then working about his lap to collect his school supplies and other stuff boys his age seemed to need. I remained the block of granite, grimacing into the windshield.

As he opened the door to step out, he realized I hadn't moved and ducked his head under his elbow to look at me.

"Are you powered by the keys too?" he asked modestly.

"Ugh, just give me a break," I groaned, finally working to undo my seat belt.

We crossed the parking lot side by side, he working to untangle the cords of his Nano, me staring grimly ahead like a zombie. Seniors were scattered on the lawn about fifty yards ahead, just like every morning. My eyes jumped over them just for the sake of something to do-- a group of skater boys attempting to jump a curb on their boards, girls in large circles laughing, punks exchanging boxes of cigarettes, a couple cuddling behind the east wall...

We weren't halfway up the parking lot before an earsplitting screech exploded to my right-- I jumped into Seth, who was busy fumbling to catch his Nano, catching me, finding his own footing, and looking past my shoulder in rising fury--

A black car's sleek hood smiled up at me, inches from my thigh like it had appeared out of thin air. I could hear Seth swearing, and my own horrified gaze skipped to the driver now staring out at us, blanched like we were.

Zane Ashborne met my eyes for a fraction of a second. _Now_ you could have called me a zombie-- I stared like I had never stared before, like I had just seen the sickest double-jointed-elbow-move ever invented. Though I was quite preoccupied with the shock, the fury was winning gold medals for floor routine down in the pit of my stomach-- I felt so angry it was like... like I can't even find an analogy.

_Oh, no. No. No, you did _not_ just almost hit me. No. You didn't._

Zane didn't look angry-- (though his shock was compatible with my own)-- Instead, he appeared disgusted, maybe even irritated. It angered me even more: if it was possible to get so angry, anyway.

A flicker of sarcastic guilt, like a futile apology drenched in satire, crossed his cold, scarred gaze I now _really_ disliked-- what a punk, what a sick _punk!_-- and then he worked quickly with the steering wheel, roughly pulling back from my leg and, with one last unsure glare, drove fast down the asphalt.

Seth's cussing had been reduced from shouts to mutters: he was mumbling furiously, as if his tongue and his brain were totally disconnected. If I had the heart to say half of what he was, I would have. I guess another factor could just be the plain and simple surprise. Every speck of guilt I ever felt for bad-mouthing Zane suddenly vanished. For all I knew, for all I cared, it was the _least_ of what a thug like him deserved.

Twitching and cringing like a ticked chipmunk, Seth directed me as a terrorist would a hostage back towards the school, still muttering and spluttering stuff that would end him with a scalded tongue if Gran ever got in earshot-- I sighed, trying to calm my heart, which, despite the ten-thousand tons of fury weighing it down, was pounding so hard it might break a few of my ribs. Somehow I managed to register a thought for the other kids on the lawn-- a handful, the closest to the parking lot, were staring (amused) at Seth's and my approach, probably resisting laughing their freaking heads off. A couple more just looked terrified, some more confused... the rest didn't care or hadn't seen-- they resumed regular teenage behavior like they were being paid for it.

---------

As you can guess, and as I've already said a million times, I was present in my first two classes. My Demonic and Angelic Inner Selves were at war, and (to my delight) my Angelic Inner Self was losing. I brushed through the assignments and students and teachers until finally my lunch hour arrived. The battle in my head had cooked up a nasty appetite-- I was ravenous, hoping when I returned to my senses I wouldn't be arrested for accidentally inflicting someone with rabies. It was an accident, right?  
I didn't see Zane in the cafeteria, or in the halls as I hurried to the double doors to find Simone or Holden. Though, I didn't expect him to be seeking me out, either. After what he "accidentally" did... I got sick just thinking about it. My food was looking less and less appetizing...

And as I approached the front doors, I suddenly saw them. It was like they had melted from the wall, or tele ported right at a precise instant. At first, I averted my gaze... but as I drew nearer, it became impossible not to meet their cold, suspicious stares.

A girl was at the head of them. I had seen some pretty scary kids in San Diego already, just out on the streets. I admit it, I'm a greenie. But even them, in all their blackness and chains (no offense to them, they're cool living how they like) didn't seem to intimidate me as much as this girl did. And the strange thing was... she wasn't dressed or presented like someone I'd be afraid of. In fact, there was a sort of cleanliness about her that really freaked me out, made her even more creepy. She wasn't your average punkette: just the look in her eyes was enough to label her as 'dangerous'. She was about my height, pale, with perfectly black hair pulled neatly back in a tight bun... There wasn't another strand of hair on her face, leaving it open for something I would call 'devilry' to dominate every bit of her cold, angular features. Honestly, I can only imagine what Seth would say if he saw her.

_Hey, Gran! I think I met Satan's daughter today!  
Shut up and stop being so judgmental._

The make-up on her face would have made her look actually quite pretty, if there wasn't all that black, bottomless... _death_ in the way. Her dark lips were crooked in a sort of all-seeing smirk. I again tried my hardest to look away, but she had already caught my eye. It was like I was being reeled in by the Grim Reaper's fishing pole: she was standing in front of the door, a punch away from me, before I knew it.

Okay, I have to admit, I'd never been bullied before. (As I knew that was the direction this would most likely be going in.) I had usually been the kid that just slips away from stuff like that, skips ahead of all the disaster. Being a geek, (at least in my opinion... yes, I have self esteem! I'm proud of being geeky!) but a well disguised geek, I think I just passed for a space-filler. See, bullies have this sort of radar, like a red screen in front of their eyes. Sometimes I think they can detect a victim's presence from the other end of the school-- just that whiff of August: fresh meat walks right in through the doors, a clan of moving targets. After that, if you fall positive under their scanner, you're pretty much doomed until everyone grows up and realizes what idiots they were in their teen years.

So you can see why I was a little frightened-- never before had I passed a geek exam, let alone an intimidated geek. But this girl... I wanted to check myself, make sure I wasn't bleeding. Had the scent of my blood, so undeniably geekish, caught her slender nostrils?

The other two girls at her back instantly made her less threatening, but not much. One, at her left, was slouching against the wall with a dismal expression on her sallow face, which was strangely squarish due to her short-cropped hair cut. Her eyes were covered with black liner to the moon and back-- she had purposely smeared some down her cheeks, making her look somewhat like a comical skeleton. Shuddering, I took a quick glance at the other girl-- I almost burst in laughter. She was frou frou from head to toe, fluffy pink hair ties, pink streaks in her auburn hair, pink-and-brown-leopard-spotted vest, frilly pink skirt rimmed with white fluff, perky pink boots decorated with stick-on diamonds... If I had a few decades I could probably think of how in the world these three had ended up together. Apparently the pink bimbo wasn't the scary girl's victim being held hostage-- she and Miss Depressed stood at the first girl's shoulders like reluctant-- or clueless, judging by the bimbo-- henchmen.

But all humor was lost when I was drawn back to look at their leader-- the smirk in her eyes was like reading my own obituary. I was in her territory now-- she was the Great White, I was the pathetic trout, placed on this earth to be eaten. (No offense, trout, but you really just have to accept it.) But I couldn't let her know that-- I had to pretend I didn't have a clue who she was, didn't care in the slightest what she was capable of.

The only problem was... I think I _did_ have an idea who she was.

"Farsighted?" she asked. My skin crawled; as if there wasn't enough about her to creep me out-- her voice was too cold to actually exist. She was the stuff out of movies.

I blinked, not getting what she had asked and not wanting to either.

"Huh?"  
"Or do you just like staring at people like some insane freak?"  
It was a smack over the mouth-- Dang it, why hadn't I ever been bullied like this before? Better yet, why hadn't I pursued karate? Man, when they say the world's tough, they really mean it!

"I'm sorry--"

Heh. Wrong thing to say.

"Yeah, I guess you should be," she sighed, studying her nails. The sympathy on her face was so fake it made me think about screaming.

"That's the sad thing about people these days," she continued in mock regret. "They're so wrapped up in their own self richeousness they can't even mind other people's personal space."

I frowned. C'mon, we just met, lady. No one's that cruel.

"It won't happen again," I said slowly.

"Mmm hmm," she hummed, still making a nasty mockery of forgiveness. "and the funny thing is I knew that before you did."

The pink bimbo giggled, watching me blankly.

"Well?" the devilette pressed, eyebrows lifted. "Are you going to just stand there all day?"

I was more than happy to take her dismissal, but obviously I'd missed a little hinted cue. As I moved to the left, burning for the door, suddenly--

The depressed girl's hand sprang from nowhere and buffeted my tray of food into a flip with one slap of her long, pointed black nails. Ranch dressing and spaghetti sauce spilled all over my hands and shirt-- the tray and anything else solid crashed on the ground in a few resounding _clangs. _I was speechless, frozen in shock, feeling tomato sauce and ranch dressing drip over my arms and down onto my jeans. I looked at her then, probably white as snow, feeling the anger in my face start to boil.

"Oops. Sorry if you were hungry," the leader said smugly.

I found myself stepping forward.

"Um-- that was _really_ stupid," I hissed.

"Why don't you prove it to me?" Miss Depressed droned in a dull, vague voice.

"What if I'm a little better than someone who goes around picking fights?" I snarled back, trying to roll my eyes. Anger, encouragement, and fear of consequence were all churning inside me as one big salsa of doom.

The devilette suddenly laughed-- I was reluctant to look back at her, but I had to.

"Little girl," she cooed, "you _aren't_ better. You're _crazy_."

That was it. I stepped forward harshly, lifting my hands, ready to wring her neck--

Something tall and black suddenly was shoved, hard, between us-- This time I _did_ stumble back, and much so, like a total dork, and finally caught my balance, staring... at the back of Zane Ashborne. He was towering over the lead girl, apparently not one bit afraid of anything she had to say.

"I thought I told you to lay off the crap, Aeva," he snarled. "Or is there too much of it clogging up your head?"

I knew it. Aeva Ashborne, daughter of the Fire Lord... and perhaps, younger sister of Zane Ashborne?

Aeva let out a shrill, short laugh.

"Ahah! I'm sorry, I didn't know you were running a rescue aid society, ZaZa!"

Ah. ZaZa. Definitely his little sister.

"You're lucky I don't care enough to tell Dad what kind of a twisted brat you are," Zane said nastily in response.

Aeva smirked, biting her lip in amusement.

"And when was the last time _he_ cared about a thing you said?"  
"Shut your dirt mouth and keep away from people who couldn't care less about _you_," Zane spat back, not one bit swayed. The anger in his voice was so real-- I actually forgot, in a brief nanosecond, anything he had done to me and was just amazed, impressed even, at the whole thing.

But, remember, I'm not the only mind in my head, and soon my Demonic Inner Self stomped her foot in impatience.

Oh, yeah. I hate his guts. Thanks for the reminder.

Aeva stiffened, and it was like there was a flicker of threat behind her hazel eyes, identical to Zane's, but then she sat back into a content smirk.

"All right. Whatever. Megan, Tiana-- let's go, ladies. Until tonight, ZaZa," she finished sweetly, and lead the other two girls from the wall.

She shot me a last glance over her shoulder-- but for some reason it didn't effect me. I don't think I would be meeting her again. As they passed, I watched the depressed girl-- Megan is her name?-- with a little extra dose of dislike. Meanwhile, the pink girl's--Tiana's-- vacant ballerina steps looked hysterical next to Aeva's elegant, ominous strides.

I followed them for as long as I could stomach, oblivious for the moment of the sauces rolling down my shirt and arms, the spaghetti and salad splashed all over the floor... Then I looked at Zane. He had not watched them leave-- he was looking down at the floor, somewhere near my spilled tray, but there was a cloud over his eyes that blocked out anything but thought-- A thousand feelings seemed to blast against my face like a full-powered hose, but I let them loose in my mind, the lazy teenager that I was. Breaking my back to not meet Zane's gaze, (I'd probably die if I did), I suddenly became painfully conscious of the mess, and dropped to my knees, reddening at the few passing students while I worked frantically to wipe my arms clean. When all my napkins were drenched, I went about fumbling for everything else, trying to collect the tray and it's contents before I would have to face Zane.

I saw him bend, his hand extend feebly, as if starting an attempt to help me--

"Don't bother," I grumbled at his fingers, and they withdrew, so annoyingly silent.

When I finally straightened, it was like being pulled by a radar again-- I had no choice but to meet his eyes. He stood mostly with his right shoulder towards me, meeting my gaze at an angle that almost fully hid his scar in black bangs.

There wasn't anger behind his eyes. Nothing, it seemed, except quiet observation. It stung me, and I nearly dropped everything again.

"What was that all about?" I said hoarsely, despite my feelings. I couldn't believe I was even speaking to him-- it was like talking to fire.

Fire? Huh? Where had that come from?  
His eyes narrowed and his head lowering somewhat, and then he spoke.

"I thought you would know better than to play around with my sister," he said quietly.

My heart leapt-- for a moment, all of his comment was lost and the only thing I was aware of was his voice... Compared to Aeva's polar tone, the sharp, loud richness that sounded just so wrong, his voice was so, so soft, like sand. Wet sand, from under the water, the kind that just runs through your fingers like chocolate syrup... The coarseness of his tone: it was warm, gentle...

WHAT THE _FUDGE_ IS GOING ON WITH ME?!

I snorted, blinking, coming back to reality. (Hallelujah, pass the gravy...)

"Yeah, well, I just moved here, so I guess not."

He was silent for a moment, just staring at me. I felt my face redden again. What? What is it, you weird and totally inexplicable kid with a burn scar?! And why the heck had I just told him that?

I decided that to get away would be the best thing to do in that situation.

For a second my legs wouldn't move. I told them what I would do to them if they didn't. They moved. As I turned, hurrying back to the cafeteria to catch a worker with a mop, a new voice rang down the hall.

"It's all right, miss, I got it!"  
I turned-- a plump man, mop in hand, was hurrying down the hall towards me. He was elderly, with balding gray hair and lines of laughter around his rosy face. He had this jolly gait that made me think for a moment Santa Claus had come to clean up my mess. He even had the button nose. (He for sure had the belly, but it suited him.)

He approached me quickly, and set about gathering the splattered noodles and lettuce into a more manageable pile. Zane and I watched for a brief second until he turned up his cheerful face and smiled at me. There was a twinkle behind his baggy eyes-- I felt relieved and warmed at the same time.

"Thank you," I said a little unsteadily.

"That's what I'm here for, miss," he said happily. "Did this handsome young man here catch you off guard?"  
I would have smacked him if I didn't like him so much. I'm sure I went red, AGAIN-- more in embarrassment than in anger, I'm afraid, because he chuckled softly to himself. I didn't even want to think about looking at Zane. I managed a smile and a small chuckle of my own, though I was feeling a little sick.

"No, sir, in fact, he ran into me-- I think deliberately."

This time, I stole a threatening glance at Zane, who immediately glared at me. I had to admit, somewhere among my Inner Selves, there was a mind that felt ashamed, but in all it was strangely satisfying.

But I probably shouldn't have said it.

But it was satisfying.

But you probably shouldn't have said it!

BUT YOU LIKED IT!

"Did he now?" the man said, flashing Zane a skeptical stare. Zane met his gaze and his eyes narrowed again. Turning back to me, I saw disgust flood his glare.

"Or maybe you ran into _me_, like you did to my car," he said.

My jaw dropped. Anger was my climate.

"Excuse me? Are you saying I _stepped_ in front of your car?"

"Yeah," he said. "I mean, I knew you were oblivious before, I just didn't think you'd have a death wish, too."

I couldn't believe him. I wanted to hit him, and at the same time felt sick at the thought of touching him.

"Okay, so I'm oblivious and have a death wish, huh? That's just facts, right?"

"Well, it didn't look any different when you decided to try your luck with Aeva," he said.

And he smirked.

He actually smirked, as if he was enjoying how angry I was. I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't believe a word of it.

Beside me, the janitor was watching, a little white. But I could swear I saw the hint of a smile on his lips.

I'm sure I looked like a dead fish, totally speechless, my mouth flapping. But Zane was the first to move-- He turned towards the right, the way Aeva and her cronies had gone, and set off solemnly down the hall, shoving his hands into his sweater pockets. I watched him, blanched, shaking my head, still looking like a suffocating sucker fish.

"Well," the janitor said, sighing slightly through his teeth and returning to his work, "just wait a moment, miss, and I'll get you a replacement lunch."

I wanted to snap at him to leave me alone, but I couldn't. Instead, heart pounding, still watching Zane, I nodded weakly.

"Okay... okay, fine."  
I closed my eyes, just racking every last corner of my mind for a taste of patience-- that punk, that-- argh!

"Kade!"

I turned-- Simone was at the front doors with Holden, just emerging from outside. I almost hugged her.

"Oh, hey," I breathed, more relieved than I had ever been in my life. "You found me."

"Yeah, we were wondering where you were!"

Smiling, she and Holden approached the janitor and I, slowly their smiles fading into looks of confusion as they observed the scene.

"What happened here?" Holden asked.

"_That_," I spat instantly, shoving my finger through the air in Zane's direction. "_That's_ what happened."

Simone and Holden followed my finger, watching Zane become just a figure at the end of the hall.

"Who's he?" Holden asked, rummaging through his pockets.

"I don't even want to say," I growled, marching over to the wall of lockers behind me and throwing myself down against them. Simone followed me, coming to sit beside me.

"What happened?"  
"He--" I closed my eyes again, praying, praying, praying for patience...

"It's not worth talking about," I growled, and instantly stood, surprising her.

"Come, miss," the janitor said rather brightly, motioning for me. "We'll get you some more lunch."

I left Holden and Simone and followed him into the cafeteria.

I swear I saw Zane turn and look back.

------------

That evening around six, I paid Seth like a taxi to drive me over to the movie theater, purposefully fifteen minutes early-- I wanted to get there before Simone and her brother, just to make sure I wouldn't have to go looking for them. Seth slipped in with me to buy candy just for cheep prices-- but as long as it was out of his wallet, he could do whatever he wanted.

I sat on a bench below some large posters of "now playing" or "coming soon" movies, watching Seth flirt with the teenage girl at the cash register. She was giggling at something he was doing-- I looked away, so not impressed. If only Gran were here. (If only she was chained to Seth every moment of his life.) When he was done being a player, Seth ripped open a packet of Twislers and made his way over to me, placing one strip of licorice between his lips like a cigarette.

"So who're you meeting here, again?" he asked blankly, chewing the end of the licorice thoughtfully.

"My friend Simone and her little brother," I replied, lifting an eyebrow at the armload of candies nestled in the crook of his arm.

"Very nutritious," I said.

"Thank you," he said, ripping another bite off the licorice.

"So why aren't you leaving?" I asked, growing annoyed.

He shrugged. "I can't let Gran see all this."  
I snorted. "Are you kidding me? You and Theodore once snuck a plasma screen TV past Dad."

He shook his head.

"That was different. Though, yes, it was genius, we had cover. But here, there's more tactics to be applied. And Gran is a black belt-- when has Dad ever been one bit ferocious?"

"You're just afraid," I said, leaning back in the bench.

"No, I'm not."  
"Yes, you are."  
"No."

"Yes."

"_No_."

"_Yes_."

"Ah, amateur of the secretive arts! Must you heckle your master so?"  
"As if I would ever want to end up like you."  
"You only wish--"  
But he trailed off instantly, staring at the main doors with a sort of disbelief. Well, this was going to be good. Sitting up, I followed his eyes--

Simone, Holden, and a boy who looked around fourteen walked into the theater lobby. The third kid I assumed was Simone's little brother-- He was about up to my chest, wearing baggy kaki shorts and an equally baggy black shirt. (Which suited his short, skinny figure. Heh, I'm wicked.) On the front of the shirt was a gold arrow pointing up-- On his head he wore a black beanie--- (I couldn't spot much hair right away)--- with the same gold arrow across it pointing down his forehead. I smiled; it was a cool-looking outfit, however unusual it was. And the gold-on-black was a nice effect.

I glanced up at Seth, but he was staring at Simone.

Oh, great.

Simone grinned when she saw me-- I smiled back, then turning to smile at Holden. He wore the top of his green basketball jersey and torn jeans, and a yellow tie fastened around his head like a headband.

"What's up, Kade," he said, smiling brightly.

"Hey," I said cheerfully. "What's with the tie?"  
"Like it?" he gave the end a twirl. "Yeah, my mom told me to do something about my bangs. Ta da."

"I don't think she said anything about looking like a hippie, though," Simone said, rolling her eyes, then smiled at me. "You beat us!"

Her hair was flipped as usual, wearing large, looped earrings and a purple headband to match the violet football jersey. She caught Seth's eye, smiling modestly up at him.

"Oh--" I didn't plan on Seth being here, and was wishing he would leave, but his eyes seemed to be glued to Simone.

"This is my brother, Seth," I said dumbly, watching he and Simone exchange smiles.

"Hey," Seth said, and for once, he didn't sound cool. He sounded stupid. Really stupid, like he'd just seen an alien.

A really pretty alien, I could only assume.

"Hi-- I'm Simone," Simone said cheerfully. Her eyes dashed from there down to the third boy, whom's shoulder she grasped.

"Seth, this is Holden, and A.J., my little brother."

"Wussup, homies?" A.J. said, saluting me firmly. I saluted him back.

"Nice to meet you, A.J.-- I'm Kade."  
"Kade," A.J. said thoughtfully, smirking, running a hand over his chin. "Where'yah from? Linebackersaurus here told me you moved to this city."

(He gestured Simone.)

"I came from Utah," I said, then looked at Simone. "You're a linebacker?"  
"Flag," she said, shrugging. "Girl's team. And only part-time."  
I _did_ happen to know what a linebacker was, thank you very much.

"Well," Simone sighed, invigorated, "should I go get popcorn?"

"I'll-- help you--" Seth said instantly. I resisted a laugh. Simone beamed.

"Sure, thanks."

And he jumped to her side, knocking me off balance, still smiling at her like a moron as they walked to the counter.

"I think my brother has become a dork," I said, and A.J. and Holden laughed.

"How many earrings does your brother have?" A.J. said, watching Seth curiously, or perhaps in awe.

"Around a thousand," I said, shrugging, and nodded towards the theater. "And that's not counting studs. Should we get seats?"

"Yeah." Holden grabbed A.J.'s arm and pulled him after me.

The theater was dimly lit-- you know, when the movie hasn't started yet. We found seats up near the front, me sitting on the edge, Holden next, then A.J. two seats down to bring up the rear of our territory. A few minutes passed (I could only guess what Seth was doing...) and someone gently touched my shoulder to get my attention. I glanced up at Simone-- she was holding two large drinks, Seth behind her trying to smoothly balance two large popcorns and another large drink in one arm while keeping a hold on all the candy he had bought in the other.

"Oh, hey, here..." I stood, pulling Holden up with me. Taking a drink from Simone, I pressed myself against the seat to let she and Seth slip by. As he approached, I clipped Seth's arm, smirking.

"So, you decided to stay?"  
"I--" He grimaced at me. "Shut up."

I chuckled, letting him pass.

When everyone was seated (Seth dropping most of his candy by his feet), I guessed there wasn't more than five minutes until the movie stared-- Holden leaned close to me, talking in my ear.

"Too bad Simone hasn't become a dork too," he said quietly.

We shared a whispered laugh.

"Maybe she would if _Seth_ wasn't being a dork," I replied, leaning close to him so the others couldn't hear. "He thinks he's such a lady's man, but when he actually is serious about hitting on someone, he can't be smooth to save his life."

"Ironic." Holden grinned.

"And funny."

We shared another hushed chuckle, then...

"Ah, by the way, Kade..." Holden twisted in his seat to face me, and so I assumed this would only become a conversation-- I twisted too, situating myself comfortably.

"Um... this is going to sound really bold, but..."

"'You guys getting cuddly?"  
A.J. folded his arms on the top of our seats-- He had slipped back a row and now ducked his head between us, grinning.

"Hey, Aj," Holden said a little sourly.

"So, A.J.," I said, clinging to his presence to avoid Holden's mood, "how old are you?"  
"Fourteen," he said proudly. "Actually, I'll be fourteen in a couple weeks."

"Then, what grade are you in?"  
"Eighth, still," he said, sighing. "And to think I still weigh as much as I did back in fifth grade."

Holden snorted, clearly bitter. I just smiled.

"Well, at least you have an early birthday."

A.J. stared for a moment, and then smirked.

"You're playing kid talk with me, aren't you?"  
I blinked. "Kid talk?"  
He chuckled. "Yeah. When older kids or adults think they have to humor the younger ones."  
I was genuinely surprised-- but then, I knew that he was right. He was just a little small for his age, I had taken him as one of the kids who's attitude went with their size. Apparently not. I smiled, embarrassed.

"Oh, yeah... sorry about that."

He shook his head modestly.

"Nah, forget about it. It just happens a lot, I can recognize it, even if you didn't mean to."

"You're right, though," I said. "You're a cool kid."

He grinned. "Thanks. Now if only Holden would realize it."

Holden rolled his eyes.

"Cool usually means mature, incase you missed that," he said.

But before A.J. could respond, a new voice broke the circle.  
"Oh, hold on, I'll go get it--"  
It was Simone. She made her way hastily from her seat, coming up Holden's back.

"What's up?" I asked her.

She bit her smile in the inconvenience. "I left my sweater in my car-- I always freeze in movie theaters."

"I'll get it," I said, standing. Holden's face lifted after me as if in objection. Simone's brow wrinkled a little too.

"Oh, no it's all right--"

"Nah, you sit down, I can get it."

"Well-- thanks," she said, smiling sheepishly, and reached into her back pocket. Her wrist flew out a second later and there was flash of something small and silver soaring towards me. I blushed, knowing for sure it would fall kersplat on the ground, probably right through my fingers--

Holden's hand snapped out at exactly the right minute, and then I looked down, the key chain was nestled between his thumb and forefinger.

"Thanks," I chuckled, meeting the smile in his eyes.

Then, with Holden's eyes on my back, I made my way quickly up the aisle.

------------

I was nearly intoxicated with the smell of buttery popcorn-- I wonder why I hadn't noticed it so much before. Crossing to the front doors, I stepped quickly out into the evening air to gather oxygen. (And get Simone's sweater.) Oh yeah, right!

There was a large area of cement spanning from the theater doors where teenagers and small kids would play, a bike rack off the side, a few stone planters shading sitting areas... and _then_ the asphalt spread into an expansive parking lot. I noticed a group of teenage boys by the theater's wall as I moved farther out across the cement. They were closer than I got perception of, and I heard the scraping and smacking of skateboards being jostled about with their feet. I sighed-- skater boys chilling out at a movie theater. How now.

As I grew closer, I caught every word of their conversation.

"Dude, you gotta slip it, like, under further... yeah, then flip it."

The smack of a board...

A new voice swore.

"Ah, dude, you're so stupid!" the first voice laughed in response.

Laughter. The scraping of boards.

"Yo, Jace, get off the phone."

"Dude, she's called me, like, twenty times..." The second voice was strangely familiar...

"So she's dead beat, man, let her hitchhike!"  
"She wanted a ride back!"  
"Just text a 'no' and get it over with. How hard is it to punch n-o?"

"You know he can't text," a new voice said, "he just got his nails done."

"Ha, ha..."

"Jace, c'mon, I'll bail out for you--"

"Guys, oh my gosh, just shut up-- I'll text her-- David, gimmie your keys--"

"Heck no, what do you think I am, a taxi?"  
"Just gimmie your keys, I'm not gonna pick her up, we're done."  
"You scratch my baby and you're riding my uncle's camel for the rest of your life."

"Your _baby's_ a piece of crap, man, I could go faster on my board."

"Hey, you know what? Shut up."

Laughter. One of them broke off from the group, stepping out onto the street. I was staring at the road, just watching the interaction from my peripheral vision. The figure disappeared behind a row of cars and I hurried somewhere near that to Simone's car. Taking out her keys, I pressed a certain button-- about four cars down, straight ahead, there was a clicking noise as all the doors unlocked. I hurried towards a dark green car parked more neatly, I observed, than those around it.

When I got there, I opened the front door and began rummaging around the seats for the sign of a sweater. It was one of those parking lots where two rows would face eachother, so Simone's car was nose-to-nose with a black hood. As I circled around Simone's bumper to get to the passenger side, I saw that the black car had it's door open too. Curious, I leaned around the hood for a better look...

A boy withdrew from inside-- I think it was the one from the group. I totally hadn't seen him.

He stepped from the car and met my eyes.

I think I melted. Or maybe I died, and I'm writing this now as a ghost. Either way, it was probably my most surreal experience yet.

The guy was _hot_. And when I say _hot_, I mean _sizzling. _Like, he licking his finger, setting it on his face, and steam hissing off. I should have been wearing a heat-resistent body cast.

He had this glossy copper skin-- no one had a tan until they had _his_ tan. Something caught in my throat and I was drowning in those dark, dreamy eyes... long, black hair that was thrown over his brow in one big wave, as deep and as rich as his irises... where on earth had he come from? Who in the world _was_ this guy?

Of course, in that minute or so of utter lust, I noticed his shirt. It was white and tight, the perfect combo (_white_, of all colors!), outlining the lines of muscle in his chest and shoulders and arms... Holy crow, _who was this guy? _I would never have considered him a rugged little _skater_ _boy_, that is, if he was the one I saw leaving the group; he was more like... Mr. Total-Dream-Boat Life Guard or something.

My senses were hopeless, wandering over him like some stupid stickup... He wore his jeans way down on his hips, as all boys his age did-- man, how old _was_ he? He had to be eighteen at _least_... What kid is _that_ scrumptious when they're my age?

(And this is when I, Kade's High Standards Inner Self, must intervene. Snap out of it! Kade! Yo! Wake up!)

So... dreamy...

(No! Don't even think about going there! You are proud to call yourself a smart, non-flirt! Don't go drooling after some pimp, what do you think this is, a fickle drive-thru?)

Hunk muffins...

(You're hopeless.)

In that fraction of a second our eyes had met, they'd held. We were connected by a magnetic force--- or at least _I_ was.

"Ughm--" I probably looked like the stupidest thing he'd ever seen.

He smiled.

"Hey, kid."

No, I hadn't melted yet... _That's_ when I melted.

"Hi," I squeaked.

I just stared at him. It was totally against anything I ever wanted to be, but he was like the arrival of aliens on earth.

And right, that's the second time I've used the aliens analogy today... sheesh, I'm really out of it...

Just then, I finally understood what had happened inside Seth's head when he had seen Simone. Suddenly, it all made sense! Who would have though my big brother was so human!

He turned sideways, leaning against the open car entrance, and went over some stuff in his pocket; then, seeing I hadn't moved, (MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE!! MOVE, KADE!) he looked back up at me in amusement, lifting an eyebrow.

"Do you need me to back out?"  
"Why would anyone want you to back out on them?" I mumbled without thinking, then blanching in horror a second later. He was talking about his car. But I don't think he had deciphered what I said-- he just chuckled and looked back down at what he was doing with those irresistible, bottomless eyes...

"D-d'you--" I spluttered.  
What the heck was I doing?!

Whatever it is, it's happening.

He looked up at me attentively, hands pausing mid-action. (He wore those one gloves that only cover your knuckles, leave your fingers exposed... So perfect... I loved it.)

"D-do you go to San Diego High?" I managed.

He smirked again, as if the answer was obvious. Of course it was.

"Yeah. And you?"  
Somehow I nodded. He lifted himself from the car, still smirking wonderfully, and faced me.

"Cool. I'm Jace Freeman."

I swallowed. "Kade Waters."

He set his elbows on the open car door, letting long, chocolate bangs fall to one side of his face. I never remembered adoring anything more than I did him at that moment.

"You a Junior?" he asked.

"Um-- sophomore."

"Oh," he said, chuckling. "You look older."

I half expected blisters to start bubbling on my cheeks, thanks to all this wretched heat... "And you?" I echoed his words.

(Though from the rate _this_ is going, you'll be writing everything he says on ancient papyrus and worshipping it.)

"I'm the Junior, then," he said. "Seventeen."

Oh. You look beautifuller.

(Beautifuller. Great.)  
Well, I was one year off.

I could just gawk. I noticed he was holding an MP3 player in his hand-- in fact, one headphone was still in his ear. The other dangled over his throat.

(And while your in a lustful mood, will you be describing to us the contours of his neck now?)

C'mon, no one's _that_ lustful...

He turned his head to his left, looking out thoughtfully over the parking lot---

Doesn't his neck just curve _perfectly_? And that skin...

(Insert rolled eyes here.)

"Kade Waters..." he murmured, looking back at me, and my heart leapt into my ears. "It's not familiar. Are you new?"  
I nodded, thrilled.

"Yeah, I... I just moved here from Utah a couple weeks ago."

"Ohhh," he said, nodding, "so you're new to the _city_."  
I tried a laugh--- it was more a half chuckle, half giggle---

(Yeah, it sounded like a choking orca.)

Will you shut up?

(Just keepin' some dignity here. Heaven forbid we should put _you_ in charge of that.)

"Yeah, it's been... different..." I said in response to his comment. "But I like it here..."

--my eyes wandered to his smile--

"...I like it here a lot..."

He nodded.

"That's good. I used to hate it here..."

He lifted his MP3 player and adjusted the volume. _Dang_, he had long eyelashes...

"Well," he said, turning back up to smirk at me. "Gotta go. Later, kid."

"S-See yah--" I lifted my fingers for a feeble wave and watched him duck back down into the front seat of the car, take the wheel, and back out of the parking place. I was caught a little by surprise as he spun the car suddenly, the tires shrieking against the asphalt, and then set off back towards the theater. From there, I watched him pull up by his skater buddies, exchange a few shouted words; soon, they all filed into the car, jeering and laughing amongst themselves, throwing boards in the trunk, and then Jace backed out with a squeal again and they were gone, off into the busy streets.

It seemed like I suddenly had a thing for meeting reckless drivers.

And now, I was basically hooked. Great.

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**A/N**: OMGOSH, i haven't updated forever... So, what do you think of Jet? Yeah, I had fun with him and his buddies... And Zutara is looking a little shaky (a little?) but have no fear, there's still lots of chapters to go. And Azula! Hehe, she's evil. I hate her. I have a toddler cousin named Zane and we all call him ZaZa, so that's where Zuko's knew nickname came up. Thanx SO much for reading!! Reviews are cookies!!


	5. Chapter 5: Lock Down

5: LOCK DOWN

**A/N:** Now we get a taste of why the heck this fic is called what it is-- You guys rock, thank you for reading!!

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Next day at school... you can only guess what I was doing. I _so_ couldn't understand why I hadn't seen Jace yet-- he seemed like one of those kids who would travel with a pack of other boys (and girls) dragging behind his heels, some idol that would rule the hallways. He looked the part, didn't he? I'd basically filled have my journal just ranting on about him... It's strange: usually, when you like someone, you're excited to tell your friend or something-- hang on-- did I like this guy? Already?

(I tried to tell you to snap out of it. I tried, but did you listen? Oh, no, not a cinch... mm, mm, no siree... you just blew me right off. Now look what's become of you! Now with that, you _cannot_ get mad at me.)

I wasn't! I was just wondering... And why don't you go bother someone else?  
(Maybe I will!)

Anyhow, I think it's because I was looking for him that I ended up seeing him as much as I did: It was so pathetic, chasing after a boy like this. Honestly, looking back on it now, I can't believe I was that... Ah, well, even if I can't find proper description, it still happened, and I'm still shocked with it. Of course, at the time it didn't seem pathetic at all. It was completely where I lived. Which is sad. But then it wasn't. But in reality, it was. You with me?

That day I had spotted him at least ten times, (maybe since you were stalking him?) --shut up-- just walking on the same side of the hall as he and his friends, as close as I dared, all the time totally invisible to him. He was living, breathing indifference in human form, just strolling along with all his cronies and bimbo cling-ons.

Second period. Advanced Literature. I folded into the atmosphere like another patch of air-- I didn't pay attention to a word the teacher said for the first forty-five minutes. I was incredibly busy doodling Jace's name on my worksheets, decorating it in arrow-pierced pink hearts and twisting vines of flowers and... I think you get the idea. I was on Planet Jace, watching his face smile at me over and over again, the same cool, polite smirk he had greeted me with the moment he had first met my eyes. Before I knew it, I was absently copying down the page number of our homework and moving with the crowd out the door, headed for lunch...

Five minutes in the hall, and it happened.

The intercom burst to life, the strict, robot-like voice of an office worker giving us all a slap on the back of the head.

_"All students and teachers must enter the nearest classroom immediately. We are having a lock down. All students and teachers, please enter the nearest classroom immediately."_

A lock down?

The halls erupted like bounty hunter ninjas had just parachuted from the ceiling. Teachers and administrators were shouting instructions, waving arms towards the classrooms-- a few girls were screaming, some smart-alecs were shouting "Ahhh! Help! He's got a gun!" and "Gosh, put the crack away, dude, look what you did!"

I'm proud to say I stayed calm-- I'd been in lock down drills, and it had seemed the situations were always under control, so this time I didn't really have a need to freak out. Glancing around, I spotted the nearest classroom and hurried inside, picked up by the moving swarm of other kids.

The classroom was way above it's student capacity-- it had been the nearest one, and my area of the hall had probably been the fullest on the second floor. I was pushed somewhere into a corner, watching kids file in, dragging their friends along. I clung to my territory, claiming as much space as I could-- I wasn't going to be shoved beside a chattering group of Seniors, forced against the wall by six leather purses until the lock down was through.

I watched a few more kids hurry in, lead by a teacher; taking a brief trip to Planet Jace, I checked the surrounding populace for any sign of him-- he wasn't in here. I tried to not let my spirits sink too far, and looked back at the door in a distant hope he might appear as a last-minuter.

Zane Ashborne walked right through the door.

I felt like vomiting, at the same time as being totally indifferent. I watched him, trying to be livid, as he leaned against the first wall he could find, sliding down into sitting position and resting his wrists on his knees. A couple tagged in after him, and nearly tripped over his extended legs. He grimaced at their fumbling feet and pulled his legs a little closer to his chest.

A clear _ding _sounded in my head, and my Demonic and Angelic Inner Selves charged eachother in Round 1 of the ring. I'll lay out the basics before you, just so you get an idea of what kind of chaos I was experiencing.

One, I insulted Zane's scar just because he kept running into me. He probably never meant to, and yet I felt snotty and wanted to throw something in his face just as pay back.

On the other hand, he accused me of being oblivious and stepping in front of his car.

Linking to that, I did NOT step in front of his car: HE almost ran into ME. Probably on PURPOSE.

And despite it all, something that really keeps me awake at night: He saved me from Aeva's clutches, and, because of him, I'll probably never have a problem with her again. Now how many times does that happen in a kid's life? Also, he offered to help me clean up my spilled lunch.

But even still, HE FREAKING ALMOST HIT ME WITH HIS CAR! And he threw his own story of it right in my face like he's some punk looking for a fight!

It was starting to get unbearable, all this analysis. I'd never been one for math-- but it seemed now I had had so much experience calculating offenses that I could do it for a living.

Grumbling, I dropped to my hands and knees. I knew what I had to do.

I crawled like a loose rat through and around the legs of the dozen or so kids separating me from Zane--- I kept right up against the wall, moving as quickly as I could without freaking people out too bad.

"Sorry--" I muttered, glancing up at the faces that jumped down on me in horror. "Sorry-- 'scuse me-- sorry-- pardon me--"  
After about twenty seconds of awkward maneuver, I reached Zane's side. Either he hadn't seen me or was deliberately ignoring me. I suspected the latter.

I shoved him in the shoulder, and he actually jumped. Blinking, his gaze spun to stare at me.

Wow, he was really wigged. I guess he _hadn't_ seen me.

"What the he--" he began.

My head rammed into his. Actually, I sort of fell into his lap. It was an accident! I had been working to slide into sitting position, but I've never been a good squatter, and I just fell, I lost my balance, gosh, don't make me feel like a bigger klutz than I am!

I groped frantically at his shirt, scrambling to get off as fast as I could-- he was helping me up as soon as he could register a message from his brain to his arms. When he finally succeeded, the force sent me back painfully on my butt.

"Ugh--!"  
I glowered, wrinkling my nose, and he only looked away, scowling. As I worked to get to my knees, careful to lean AWAY from him, his eyes snapped back on me and he spat,

"What are you doing?"

He accentuated with a raised hand of incredulity.

"We need to talk!" I hissed back, face contorted in effort as I avoided buckling a girl's leg.

He sighed, letting his chin fall and linking his fingers behind his head.

"Look!" I snarled, slapping his hand, "I don't want to talk to you anymore than you want to talk to me, but it's gonna happen!"

He recoiled his hand, rubbing it. I _had_ slapped it pretty hard. Grimacing, he seemed unable to look at me for a moment... Finally he met my eyes.

"Okay. What's up?"

"Awwww..." a voice droned from above. Zane and I looked up, shocked, to see a teenage boy standing above us. His braces smiled down on us like some amused idiot-- He motioned his friends to come to his shoulder.

"Hey, you guys need some privacy?" he scoffed. "You can always go under the teacher's desk."  
I didn't have time to say anything, though I had enough on my tongue to give Seth a run for his money.

Zane was first to act.

Without a word, he kicked his heel forward, straight and super-humanly hard, right into the kid's shin.

The kid yelped and his legs buckled-- he fell flat on his face with a loud _thud_. He laid there for a moment, rolling and moaning and clutching his shin like the world was ending. I blinked and looked at Zane. He only sighed in exasperation and glared up at the kid's friends. They were white, and right as Zane met their eyes, they tangled together in an immediate attempt to get as far away from him as possible, totally abandoning their friend like a soldier left for dead.

"Ohhhh... awwwhhhh..." The kid threw his head back, wincing, mouth hanging open as he moaned more desperately, probably trying to catch someone's attention. It _was_ getting a little annoying, but I was too... content, I guess?... to do anything.. Moments later, a few surrounding kids who were thinking the same thing bent down and hauled him to his feet, shoving him over to his friends and then returning to their conversations.

I looked at Zane again-- he met my eyes with a scowl.

"Yes?" he demanded.

I blinked, shaking my head. "I expected more blood."

He chuckled nastily.

"I don't sleep on a pocket knife like other kids do."

He looked away again, his face darkening. I swallowed a smart comment and decided to cut to the chase.

"Okay..." I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts, and when I opened them, he was still looking away.

"I don't think we've been handling our interactions too smartly," I said, still fumbling to voice what I felt. "I just want to clear a few things up, you know, get them shoved aside. Because find it funny or not, it's been driving me crazy."  
He glanced at me, still somewhat glaring.

"You first."

I sighed, a bit heckled.

"All right. I'll start with this--- why the _hullis _did you play skid marks with me in the parking lot?"

His gaze flared.

"I did _not_ do that on purpose--- you _stepped_ right in front of my car! And what kind of a world is 'hullis', anyway?"

"My dad made it up because he's a saint and doesn't even believe in the word 'heck'! And what_ever _I just stepped in front of your car-- Are you blind or something? We were in at least thirty square feet of open space, a _dog_ could have had enough sense to steer clear of me!"

"I did _not---_ _see_ you," he persisted through his teeth. "And I'm not the only one to have done something stupid---"

"Ah!" I yelped, making a few of the surrounding legs jump. "You admited it!"

"No, I didn't," he snapped back. "You're just desperate for something to hold against me, when really I've been breaking my back to stay away from you!"

"And there's another thing!" I cursed my big mouth--- it was free-for-all now. "Why are you always running into me?"  
"Well, apparently you've already answered that one," he said nastily. "You being so observant and all..."

"And I'm sorry about what I said!" I burst before I could stop myself. "All right? Is that enough for you? I'm sorry I made that smart comment about your eye. It was stupid and heartless and it's been killing me ever since I said it, will you just _drop_ it? Please?"

He blinked, still glaring.

"I haven't mentioned it until now," he said defensively. "I don't care what people say about my eye--- I've learned to just accept none of them know what they're talking about."  
"Oh, thanks, yeah," I said, brushing sarcasm shavings off my shirt. "Great, okay. So much for my apology."  
"I heard you apologize!" he said irritably. "I'm just not gonna come off as some kid who wallows in self-pity all the time."

"Fine!" I said fiercely. "I won't bother feeling guilty in the future."

He groaned.

"You are _so_ not listening to me."  
"Well, whatever I _do_ listen to just makes me more of a wreck."

I let out a long, exhausted breath, leaning against the wall, and then, closing my eyes, started again.

"Okay. Next thing--"  
"You're welcome."

I glowered at him.

"What?"  
"_You're welcome_."

"For what?" I didn't want to think he could read my mind like that.

"Are you thanking me for sparing you Her Royal Highness Waste Of Space Aeva Ashborne?" he asked.

I blinked.

"Well, now that you put in that context-- yes. However, I'd appreciate it if you weren't so gosh-dang proud about it."

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned close to hiss at me,

"Look. I'm not having this conversation forever, all right?"  
"Then you could stop being such a brat and just let me talk," I snapped back.

"_I'm_ being a brat?"

"Pause, just-- Pause!"

I held up my hands, one arm before his lips, silencing him. I took a deep breath.

"Let's stop, please? Please, let's just stop whining like this. You think we could act our age. We're living in the U.S., for heaven's sake, we _should_ be able to settle a fight without going to war with eachother!"

It seemed, for the briefest, tiniest second, he was humored, but the moment was gone like lightning. He shoved my arm down, taking his own deep breath.

"All right. Sorry."

"I'm sorry too," I said patiently, in the tone mothers use on naughty kids. As frustrated as I was, I wasn't going to let him get me so worked up, nor the other way around. I wasn't going to be a pest, and neither was he.

"Kay--" he said, glancing at me. "Does everything pass?"  
I huffed a breath, scowling (but it was a controlled, disciplinary scowl) at him.

"Well, you still haven't apologized for almost killing my brother and I."

He instantly glared-- I could tell he had some Zanesque retort hot on his lips, but he held it back. Sighing, he averted his gaze before saying,

"I'm sorry it _appeared_ to you that I almost killed you and your brother."

"Nooo..." I shoved him in the shoulder, and he looked up instantly-- his expression was ten percent amusement, ninety percent annoyance.

"Okay!" he growled. "I'm sorry I almost killed you and your brother."

I nodded.

"Awesome. Kay. Now I can get some decent sleep, and _we_ don't have to talk to eachother ever again."

"Fine by me," was his rough reply.

I nodded again, just feeling all the stress and anger and guilt lift off my shoulders, kind of like the times I had finally convinced Seth I couldn't give him a piggyback ride for a second longer.

I turned to crawl away, but Zane's voice stopped me.

"Oh, crap--- hold on. Is this yours?"

I turned and looked over my shoulder. In his fingers--

A chain necklace, with a small azure jewel at the end, dangled from his fingers.

My jaw went slack.

That was my _mother's necklace_! The night she died in a car accident, when we went to see her body at the hospital, my dad had taken this off her neck and given it to me, telling me it was mine now! I was to take care of it!

Now, seeing it in Zane's fingers, I think I was about to die.

"_Where did you get that?_" I hissed, snatching it, not in anger but in shock, horror--

"I'll take that as a yes," he droned.

"Like _hullis_ you will!" I fumbled to untangle a knot that had formed in the chain.

He snorted. "That word..."  
"Is there anything wrong with it?" I said dryly, though distracted with the knot.

"I guess not; isn't that why you say it?" He sighed then, long and tired. I switched gears to fussing over the jewel, making sure it hadn't scratched.

"So how'd'you get it, Sherlock?" I demanded again.

"Well, apparently you dropped it," he said testily. "I found it in the road, right where I had--- where you had--- argh--- where we had the incident with my car. It caught my eye as I walked past."

How in the _world_ had I dropped _this_? This, the last remaining memory of my mother I could call my own. When--- why---

And _Zane Ashborne _ had picked it up?!

I now just sat there, staring at it.

"Why didn't you give it to me yesterday?" I asked, suddenly incredulous.

His eyes narrowed. "I didn't know it was yours. And even if I had, I was kind of busy dealing with all the fights you started with me."

I glared, then tried my best to wave it off, pulling my hair aside and attempting to secure it around my neck.

"Would you have preferred I left it there in the street?" he asked after a moment, raising an eyebrow.  
My heart nearly stopped.

"Shut up."

He turned his head, concealing his entire face, massaging his hair absently.

If he's smirking, I'm going to kill him.

I fidgeted with the chain, but we humans don't exactly have eyes in the back of our heads. I wrinkled my nose, trying again, but only _missed_ it again-- I think my fingers were shaking. After about three more attempts, my arms were aching with the loss of blood and I threw them down into my lap, huffing in frustration.

"Augh, how did I ever get this on before?"

Lifting my arms, I tried again. Another miss. Now it was just self-inflicted failure. Grumbling, I frowned at Zane.

"Can you give me a hand here?" I asked, trying to sound polite.

I think I surprised him-- he looked at me with a wide gaze, and I jerked the necklace in his face as an explanation. Understanding, he rolled his eyes dramatically and spun his finger, gesturing I turn around. Shifting my knees, I planted my back before him, passing him the necklace like a baton-runner. When I felt him take it, I brushed any strands of hair that had fallen on my back over my shoulders, holding them there and staring at the ground.

I heard Zane shift in his place before his hands crossed under my chin, placing the necklace on my throat. He worked fast-- it was awkward enough as it was. I remembered the look on the kid's face as Zane had basically kicked his knee right out. I wondered what Zane would do now if anyone thought they'd attempt a smart mouth.

It was only a few seconds and then he knocked on the back of my head with his knuckles.

"There you go," he said gruffly, turning away instantly. I threw my hair back as quickly as I could and stood up.

"Thanks," I muttered.

"Forget about it," he muttered back.

I sighed, about to turn back and this time _walk_ like a civilized being back to my little corner, when I realized it had been occupied by a lounging trio of Senior boys.

I scowled, and dropped like a rock back down next to Zane.

He glanced at me.

"Don't you say a word," I warned under my breath.

He didn't.

He only smirked.

I was saved-- the intercom crackled to life above us, the room quieting somewhat, anxious to hear a progress report.

"_Teachers and students may return to their regular routines. All disruptions have been dealt with. Thank you for your cooperation."_

The energy burst, and the door was thrown open, people pouring out like a stink bomb had just erupted near the front of the classroom.

As Zane and I stood, I clipped his shoulder before he could turn to leave.

"What?" he asked.  
"Don't be late to Kohlan's," I said seriously. He stared at me.

"Why not?"

"Because I most likely _will_ be."  
And with that, I brushed past his shoulder and out with the crowd.

------------

There seemed to be more commotion in the halls-- but that wasn't really a mystery. People were asking around: "Who had the gun?", "Who got arrested?", "How many cops came?"... I just rolled my eyes-- They were never going to get any official answers; stuff like this was always hushed up as best as it could be. In my opinion, it was better that way.

I finally broke through the mass of humanity, clinging to my locker to avoid being swept up by the current again, and hurriedly went about spinning the dial. Every second spent meant the lunch line was getting longer--- I just needed to throw in some books and then I'd be gone.

When I got the door open, I didn't look as I shoved books inside, worrying on emptying my arms--

They wouldn't go in. Something was blocking their way.

It wasn't a chunk of granite: it was flexible. I pressed the book spines against it a few times, puzzled, and then removed everything.

There in my locker was a folded pair of jeans.

I blinked, and, forgetting all about lunch, slipped them out. Holding them up, letting the legs unravel, I saw they were definitely not mine: they were a guy's jeans, tearing a bit at the knees.

Now, it was weird enough finding them in the first place, but the first thing that entered my head, strangely, was concern for my appetite. I dared bringing them near my nose---

Oh, good. They weren't _dirty_ jeans. They smelled fine, and for that, I was eternally grateful.

I studied them again, oblivious to the many kids nearby pausing to chuckle at the scene. Where had they come from, who put them here--- you know, the regular questions--- were next to run through my head... I hadn't given anyone my locker combo; had all the numbers been in place? Had I forgotten to scramble them? It seemed unlikely; I was always obsessed with security, especially in public places.

Hm. Strange. Maybe someone had mistaken my locker for theirs... but still, there was the getting-in issue. And the jeans were a larger size than mine, about Seth's size-- they might belong to a Senior. And as far as I knew, all their lockers were at the other end of the school. So unless the kid was high on something, he couldn't have mixed up east from west...

And they for sure hadn't been here at the beginning of the school day...

My stomach rumbled, and I decided not to worry about them-- it wasn't a big deal, just a little weird. I rolled them back up, blushing as I caught the eyes of some onlookers: they chuckled to themselves and looked away. I grimaced and worked filling my locker with books.

"Hey, do you read _Teen Revolution _magazine?"  
I looked up-- a tall, plump boy was standing over me, smirking at the jeans around my arm.

"No," I said, frowning in annoyed confusion.

"Oh," he said, and laughed softly. "Okay."

And he walked off, like some moron I didn't need to meet.

I stuffed the jeans atop the books and slammed the locker door shut, hurrying to the cafeteria before I'd have to wait any longer.

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**A/N**: So where did the jeans come from?!? and the reference to the magazine, what's that all about? thanx a ton for reading guys!! Reviews are cookies!!


	6. Chapter 6: Genius and Convenience

6: GENIUS AND CONVENIENCE

**A/N**: Wow, i woke up today to 21 messages in my inbox about Since The Jeans so thank you so much guys!! you rock!! ok... here's when the jeans buisness gets cooking! reviews are cookies, as you know- Oh, and there may be a few spelling errors in this one... I was watching Naruto while proofing this so... yeah, i'm really efficient... ;)

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At the end of that day, I knew Seth would probably forget school was over while talking to bimbos anyway, so I decided to think through this jeans buisness. I had caught up with Simone after lunch, just to make sure she wasn't taking a bus--- no, she walked home. Good news for me: I wasn't gonna march into this alone.

So, when the last bell rang, I waited by my locker for Simone, pretending to rifle through my binder for some loose paper. I kept glancing up incase she came-- and, I was looking out for Jace. Argh, there I go again, like one of those fangirl clusters that rave online over some hunk anime character. (Hey, I'd seen the anime corner of the web. Not a conservative place.) Anyway, two minutes passed and still no Simone. I didn't expect her right that minute, I was just growing jittery, with everyone around me chattering and getting ready to go home and me just standing there like I was afraid of the outdoors.

I went to shuffling about my binder again-- and this time, actually withdrew a peice of paper. Accident, of course, so I had the delight of watching it slip from my fingers and ride the air for a moment before landing on the tile and sliding a few lockers down... My heart beat in annoyance...

And the paper met fingers, which stopped it mid-drift and gently picked it up. I blinked and--- looked right up at Zane. Well, well, how unexpected! Me, randomly run into Zane Ashborne? Unthinkable!

Seriously, it was getting old.

But for once, there wasn't the bubbling of disgust that usually started in my gut when I looked at his face-- and he wasn't glaring, either. It was just... normal. Like two kids, total strangers, interacting for the first and last moment in their whole lives.

Zane lifted an eyebrow, standing straight from his crouch, and extended the paper.

"Is this precious to you?" he asked dustily. I appreciated the dose of humor, but still felt like I was supposed to be bitter towards him. Old habit, I guess. It was weird, though... I think a couple Inner Selves were lobbying for bitterness... Hm, I could be bitter just to annoy him. That sounded good... but then, was there really a reason? And I wasn't _that_ immature, c'mon.

"Well, let's see..." I took it from him, and read it. Yikes. Math homework.

"Why, yes," I breathed, almost laughing. "You could call it that."

I went to shoving it somewhere in my binder while in my peripheral vision I saw him turn...

He was turning the dial of a locker just five down from mine.

"That's yours?" I asked, watching him slyly. He slowly glanced over his shoulder-- his scarred eye was towards me. It felt unusual, seeing only the scar. It was like something out of a cartoon. He didn't look... real.

"Yeah," he replied, still with little if no energy, then turned back to the dial. I shrugged.

"Okay. I've just never seen you here before."  
He opened it, shoved his only book inside, and as he slammed it shut, turned to look at me seriously.

"Didn't we just conclude we weren't talking to eachother anymore?"  
He didn't sound angry-- just... maybe a little irritated. I blinked, my brow furrowing.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry, I didn't think it would be such a horrible experience for you."  
He exhaled, averting his gaze.

"It's not horrible. You really have a thing for exaggerating about people you don't know."

The end of my eyebrow shut up and I almost chuckled.

"Really. All right, I'll take your word for it."  
As he turned to look at me, confused, I turned away, shoving my binder in my open locker just for something to do.

"What do you mean?" he asked. I sighed, looking back at him.

"Well, if you ask me, I've had my decent share of Zane Ashborne, probably more than anyone in this school, and I didn't even _ask_ for it. Plus: I've only been here a week."

I thought he smirked-- it was hard to tell. The collar of his jacket was in the way. But there was definitely a smirk in his eyes. He turned and slouched against the lockers between us.

"Yeah. To some I'm the Phantom of the High School."

"It's not like you give them anything different," I mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."  
"I heard that."  
"So? I thought you didn't want to talk to me anymore."  
"I thought _you_ were losing _sleep_ over me."

"Not over _you_," I said irritably, "just what I'd... our interactions, that's all."

He sighed loudly, his shoulders and chest heaving, as if letting a lifetime out in his breath.

"Well... I wasn't late for Kohlan's."

"I noticed."

"I'm not worried whether you noticed," he said, as if provoking me. (If he was, all I had for him were two words: BRING IT.) "I just can't get suspended now, not when..."

He trailed off, as if catching his own hand in the cookie jar. Whoops!

I blinked.

"What?"

He ran a hand through his bangs.  
"Erm... Listen, I gotta go."

"Uh... okay," I watched him stand up from the lockers, a little confused, but at least we hadn't released hell's fury on eachother.

No, strike that. _Woman's_ fury. Heh, heh.

"But, um..."

He turned towards me, but didn't meet my eyes, like I'd hypmotize him if he did.

"What's your name?" he asked.

A day ago, I would have been creeped and appalled.

Now, I was just... nothing, I guess.

"Kade Waters."

"Okay." He was averting his gaze like none other, it was hilarious.

"Why?" I smirked, watching him.

He just shook his head.

"I just never knew. It was kind of weird, fighting with this girl when I didn't even know who in the world she was."

I shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess that could be weird. But it hardly matters, does it? We're not talking to eachother anymore."

"Still... I don't even know how _you_ know who _I_ am."

"Zane," I said, "I T.A. for Mr. Kohlan."

He nodded, rubbing his neck.

"I guess that explains it."

We stood there for a moment, silent and still, and then I turned back to my locker.

"So, shall we stop being hipocrites and shut up to eachother already?"  
But when I looked back--- he was already walking away.

Huh. Weird kid.

"Kade!"  
I spun about-- my neck wasn't getting a rest, was it?

Simone hurried towards me, grinning, slipping between two six-foot-nine Senior Samoans about to exchange ebonicesque handshakes. Seriously, had the NBA dropped off some undercover athletes to chill at the high school?

"Hey!" she said breathlessly: she must have been hurrying. "Sorry, got held up with Holden--- what's up? You sounded excited!"

"Did I?" I snorted. "Well, we'll see how exciting it is."  
And I reached into the back of my locker, rummaging over some books, and then withdrew the jeans.

Simone blinked as they unraveled, stooping to takes the legs, to see them a little better.

"So... where did they come from?"  
"Like I said-- just found them here, in my locker. Like someone had messed up numbers _and_ combos."

"Nah, that's something an idiot like Jace would do..." she muttered under her breath, but I hadn't caught all of it, just the 'J' and 'S' sound.

"Wait, what?"  
"Oh, nothing--" She waved it off with the flick of her head, looking them over again.

"Well... I guess you could just turn them into the lost-and-found."

"Yeah... Yeah, I'd never thought of that!" I mentally palmed my forehead. Why hadn't I? "C'mon, let's go..."

Simone shut my locker as I bundled up the jeans and we set off into the crowded halls.

When we reached the main desk, it was 'Party in the office!' There were about six teachers moving around the front counters, two administrators on walkie-talkies, and a couple office workers jumping from one desk to the next.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Probably stuff about the lockdown," Simone murmured.

"Oh." I nodded. Made sense.

"Um... excuse me?"

Simone stepped forward-- I thanked her for it.

The creepy, ancient secretaries looked up from her computer, and when she saw Simone, her almost nonexistent lips spread into a sardonic smile.

"What can I do for you, honey?"

"Erm--" Simone seemed equally wigged. I thought instantly of Seth, and realized that was maybe the first thing that made them alike in a way.

"We have some jeans here that need to go to the lost-and-found."

"Ahhh..." The secretary nodded slowly-- gosh, she looked liked a freakin' toad, it was sad, really. Twisting in her seat, she spoke to one teacher at the right hand of her desk, a balding, skinny man scribbling fiercely at a manilla envelope.

"Berry, do you know if the lost-and-found items have been shipped yet?"

"Hm?" The man looked up, and nodded his head like a heckled squirrel.

"Er, yes, Lois, everything was shipped yesterday."

"Oh, dear..." Lois turned back to us, her face scrunched in some kind of frog-like sympathy.

"Sorry, honey," she said, "as of yesterday, the lost-and-found doesn't exist until next week."  
"Oh, okay--" Simone nodded, backing away from her crumpled face. "That's fine. Thank you very much, ma'am."  
"Anytime, sweetie," Lois said, scrunching her face again in a sour smile and waving her long, ruby nails.

Simone shuddered and walked back over to me-- I was on the verge of laughter.

"Well," she said, sighing, "I guess you'll have to hold onto them until next week."  
I shrugged, shaking my head.

"That shouldn't be a problem... I just hope I don't end up with a shirt next time."

"Yeah, someone'll slip their whole wardrobe into your locker over the next five days. C'mon, we'll go put them back, then why don't you come over to my house for lunch and homework?"  
I was instantly cheered as we strolled from the buzzing office. "Sure, yeah, I'd love to! Well, I'd have to tell Seth, if he hasn't left yet... Though, I doubt it... Actually, I think I'll just keep the jeans at my house until next week-- more locker space that way."  
"Sure, that's smart."

It all happened like clockwork. Seth hadn't left, as I expected, but was listening to his Nano and going through certain papers in his binder while propped against his locker by his elbow. Oh, and, he was also popping Milk Duds into his mouth, which of course he swallowed without chewing when he saw Simone and I approach. How he did with all that music blasting in his ears, I'll never know. Maybe he sensed her in the Force. I didn't really want to know though-- I don't want to get mushy here.

I had to take his earphones out myself, because he was grinning at Simone like a moron, you know, doing stuff that really wasn't Seth-like, but hey, it was hilarious, I was just sad Gran couldn't be here to see it. When I finally got the message into his head that I was going home with Simone, he just nodded blankly. Then, when I asked if he would be willing to drive over to Simone's and pick me up around dinner time, (I think the only word that registered in his brain was 'Simone') he _hungrily_ obliged, actually getting me a little embarrassed. But it was all said and done in about a minute, and after Seth had said his gaga good-byes, we set off.

I liked Simone's street, once we cleared the school area and entered a little, cozy neighborhood infested with cherry trees. They were blossoming, (it was March, after all), and so when I first turned the corner and saw the street, it was like stepping into Candyland. We made small talk, girl's talk, whatever, as we walked, ignoring the cars and occasional passing skateboards that whizzed around us. All the skater boys looked the same honestly, with their flipped hair and their beanies and their iPods... a few of them, as they passed us by, realized who we were (well, at least who one of us was) and grinned over their shoulder. "Hey, Simone!" they'd call, and she'd wave back and say hi to all of them. About four boys passed us like that; the fourth one had actually asked Simone if she were doing anything that upcoming Saturday--- she politely turned him now, saying she was busy, and he shrugged, winking, then set back off again across the street.

"Tyson Arleng," she explained with a smile as we watched him skate away. "He comes to my football games--- well, all of them do---" ---at this, she blushed modestly, and I assumed she meant all the skaters we'd encountered--- "but he's been a friend of mine since sixth grade."

"I don't think 'friend' is the word he wants to use," I said, smirking.

Simone just shrugged again. "He's really nice, but... you know... I'm not just not in the zone for dating right now. Haven't been for a while, actually..."

We continued walking for about a block more, and then she steered around a sharp turn where suddenly I saw a coldesac swarmed with pink blossoms. She lead me to the very end to a average brick house nestled in the coldesac's lobe, where she opened her garage and we entered.

Her house wasn't like Gran's-- Gran's was a beach house, hers was regular, so instantly I could detect a difference. Whoever her mom was, she must have a major in interior decorating. The walls were painted a lime-olive, the floors wore curly, white carpet (we removed our shoes the instant we stepped inside), bronze tile for the kitchen, brown-leather sofa, and purple silk pillows. I loved those pillows, and was thrilled when she told me she had the same ones up on her bed.

Her room was sort of like mine, just more... personalized. She had posters of soccer and football players on her wall, some I didn't recognize, one wearing the same violet jersey she would wear, one male player, possibly hispanic, with layers upon layers of hearts drawn around his head. I also noticed a small bulliten board which was cluttered with pictures of friends, enemies, you name it. (I knew they were enemies by what she had done to their picture.) There was one I happened to recognize-- it was the same boy she had a photo of in her locker, except his entire face was covered in tacs, so I only had the shirt and the posture to go by.

"Who is that?" I asked, almost laughing. She was throwing her bag down on the bed, which, yes, sported the purple pillows and had about a dozen blankets all stacked one after the other to create this... _cloud_ she would sleep on. I think I would sink five feet into it before hitting the mattress. _That_ was the way to sleep.

"Oh, _that_?" she said, snorting. "Doesn't matter- I've taken an oath to never say it's name again. It still goes to this school, stuck on the walls and stuff, being a sicko like always. You want some raspberry lemonade? My mom's addicted, there's always a pitcher in the fridge."

"Oh, sure, thanks--" I flashed her a smile before turning back to the other pictures, studying them over.

I heard her leave, bounding down the stairs how she probably had her whole life. I spotted a few pictures of Holden, some of A.J., and more of the three girls that were with her that one time at lunch. There were other kids too, scattered about the photos like a topping on a sundae of friendship. She didn't have any pictures of me-- but I knew why, I had just moved here.

When she returned, we took to her bed--- sinking more like five inches down in than five feet, but hey, I was close!--- and drank from straws--- straws! We never have straws at Gran's house!--- and just talked for some time, mostly about the people on her bulliten board. After a while, our discussion went to music groups, bands that were really hot at the time. She indicated to me the posters of her favorite bands on the inside of her closet door: Fall Out Boy, Linkin Park, Green Day... this time, I happened to know the owner of the head around which there were drawn more hearts.

"Pete Wentz?" I asked, grinning.

"My sister did that before she moved out," Simone said, shrugging. "Though you can't blame her."  
We laughed.

And so on. As we chatted, she reached under her bed and withdrew a magazine, while telling me there was one new band I _had_ to read about---

Like a bolt of lightning, I recognized the front cover of the magazine. I realized... it was the same magazine that Seth and I had looked at the first day we went to school. It might not be the same issue, but...

On the cover was written _Teen Revolution. _

That was weird-- when had I heard that before? Oh, yeah! The moron had asked me about it...

"What's that magazine about?" I asked her, taking another sip from the lemonade.

"Oh, just stuff in the teen world, pop culture, high school athletes going big, stuff like that..." She was flipping through the sports pages now--

And I saw, in the blink of an eye, the page about the motorcycler rookie, the one who was destined to take nationals and be the champ, at least that's how I remembered it...

At last she found the page she wanted, and then she showed me an article about one band she was in love with-- a few minutes passed where we read the article together, discussing different aspects, y'know, just buying time to not do our homework...

And then suddenly she gasped.

It was the kind of gasp where the animated lightbulb is clicked on over your head: INSPIRATION! She'd just received revelation from the heavens.

"Kade!" she exclaimed, and I stared at her.

"Yeah?"  
"I think I know why you found those jeans in your locker!"

I blinked.

"Why?"

And she seized the magazine, flipping through the sections, back past the sports section, until she reached--

She slammed it down in front of me on the bed and pointed to a diva girl's picture-- her mouth was open, and from it sprouted an orange talking bubble with a paragraph written inside. (Though, I believe girls like her could talk WAY more than that.) At the top, it read: _Weekly Flirt Forecast: Tips To being A Secret Admirer_. I lifted an eyebrow at her.

"Please, Simone."  
"No, no, look what the tip says!" She pressed it harder with her finger.

I rolled my eyes and read.

_Do you feel shy about your crush? Do you want to let them know you like them, without doing it the old-fashioned way? Do you want to be original? And most importantly, do you want a way to really know that they like you back? Well, we've got the way! Say hello to Unknownawear! This new technique will leave your crush mesmerized! Here's how it goes: Leave a pair of your jeans in their locker, car, etc. If the love was made to be, you'll receive _they're_ jeans back in the same place! Don't think it works? Try it! _

I stopped reading, and looked up at Simone. It was strange: I wanted to laugh, scream, blush, and be indifferent all at the same time.

"Well?" Simone smiled down at me. "See? I think you've got a secret admirer who reads _Teen Rev_!"

"What?" I shook my head. "C'mon... Who would want to try that dumb trick?"  
"It's already happened once in our school," Simone said slyly. "Before you moved here, two Seniors started dating because they did this to eachother. And another guy used this to ask a girl to Prom."

"And you think some guy's left his jeans in my locker as a way of asking me out?" I snorted. "I think there's more sexual reference in this maneuver than they talk about. I mean, a _pair of jeans_? Seriously."

"That's just an unspoken side-note, the point is that the two people get together. So, you don't think that's the case with these?"

"No... At least... Well, I don't know, maybe..."  
"You don't seem really excited about it."  
"Well, I don't know who the guy is! I don't know if I _should_ be excited."

Simone laughed.

"Yeah, I hadn't thought about it that way... Well, I think we can leave it to the power of love to find out."

"Oh, please..."

"They left you a nice pair of jeans, I mean, they weren't old or anything, I could tell they were pretty new. Obviously the guy likes you enough to sacrifice what should be around forty-bucks."

I smirked. "Hm... Which do think is worth more, the forty bucks, or the guy?"  
She laughed again.

"Whatever you do, don't sell them. You're not that cruel, Kade. And anyway, why not do a little investigating? It'll be fun! It'll give you something to do until the summer."  
I sighed, considering.

"Yeah, maybe... I like a little suspense now and then. And maybe if I don't reply soon, he'll give me another clue."

"Maybe," Simone nodded. "See, now you're thinking like a girl."  
"I never thought I'd hear that from you."  
She chuckled, taking back the magazine.

"Yeah, well-- I've outgrown this kind of stuff. But I think you're just ripe for it. So I say: go have fun."

I rolled my eyes, smiling and resting an elbow in her pillows.

"Maybe. We'll see." 

I left the jeans at my house, so the next day at school, it felt a little awkward-- I wondered if my 'secret admirer' would feel offended that I wasn't stroking them like a cat, but, c'mon, he'd have to get used to it. I have to admit, I was a little more on edge, put on a little more make-up, walking a little more gracefully. Knowing someone likes you kind of makes you want to look pretty, you know? I think even boys would side with me on that one. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was keeping a lookout, like Simone had said. Great, now I was officially a girl.

There was lingering hope at the back of my mind that the jeans were from Jace. Ah, man, would that be it all... But, come on, a guy like Jace, falling for a girl like me? Right. Funny. Moving on. He has enough girls glomping him as it is.

So, anyway, I was walking down to the east end for Geometry when I passed him-- an angel if I've ever seen one, tinkering at his locker, NOT surrounded by girls (strange...), but three of his buddies. He had one earphone hanging out of his ear like when I had first met him-- half eavesdropping, half not, I caught some of his conversation. Again.

"No, dude... I told you I got rid of my last pair..."

"Well, where?"  
"Why do you care?"  
"Dude, wasn't it still in the back pocket?"  
"No, I took it out, okay? Freak, you're like-- paranoid."

"Well, sorry, but you have a thousand pairs of jeans, I don't know which ones you keep--"  
I froze in my tracks, and was almost barreled into the lockers by a passing Senior.

No way.

No _way_!

The jeans were from Jace. They had to be. Oh my gosh, holy crow, they had to be... Seth. Seth, I gotta find Seth!

I set off towards his locker, jumping around loungers, scampering between outstretched arms ready to hug, anything to get to him as fast as I could... Oh, please be at your locker, you idiot, please...

He was. I almost hugged him. He was talking to another boy who looked about his age, one with mousy blond hair. Seth didn't notice me until I rammed him in the shoulder-- I didn't really mean to, I had gotten shoved while trying to fight the hall current.

"Ow! What the--"

He stared down at me as I got my balance.

"Seth!" I said, almost out of breath, "What period today do you hate the most?"  
He snorted. "I don't believe in favorites, sis. If I hated one more than the other, do you know how bad that would screw up my morals?"  
"All right," I said irritably, "which one can you skip out on?"  
He pondered this for a moment, then answered with a reasonable shrug.

"Hmmm, I guess that would be Consumer Math. Teacher's a dead robot."

"Okay--- have you had it yet?"

"No, it's my next one."

"Great. I need you to run home---"

"Woah, what---"  
"---and get a pair of jeans from my room. Make sure they're not too new-- Just rummage around at the bottom, you should fine some---"

"Kade---"

"I'll pay you! C'mon, Seth, I need you to do this. Please? And get them back to me at first lunch, okay?"  
He stared at me for a really long time, and then sighed.

"How much will you pay me?"  
"Oh, Seth, you skip out on classes anyway, this shouldn't be something new!"

"But you're asking me to be a delivery boy!" he said, and then his voice dropped to one of those disciplinary yet sympathetic tones. "What happened? Did you wet your pants? Kade, you can just call Gran, she'd be happy to--"

"I did NOT wet my pants!" I snapped. "And Gran's at the artist convention today."  
"Oh, yeah..."

"So? I'll give you five dollars."  
He burst into hysteria.

"Rip me in HALF!" he bellowed, laughing his head off.

"Okay, okay! Ten! How's that?"  
He whiped his eyes.

"All right, ten, fine. But this had better be pretty friggin' important."  
"It is, I promise. I'll pay you after school, okay?"  
"Promise?"

"I promise, you boob! Have I ever cheated you before?"

He shrugged.

"A few times..."

"I have _not_. And I won't this time, either."

I sighed. Holy cow! This kid is a handful.

Kinda like another kid I know! Right, Zane?

"Okay. Thank you very much, Seth."  
"Save it for the pay check, sis."

I rolled my eyes and hurried away.

"Wait!" he called. I turned around.

"Yes?"  
"So... what am I doing?"  
Nice.

And then light hit him.

"Oh, yeah! You wet your pants. Right."

"I did _not wet my pants_!"

-----------

Somehow, it all worked out. I knew Seth would get the jeans-- He'll never let ten dollars down. And anyway, he'd enjoy sluffing-- he might catch a TV show at home, or order a pizza. You know, Seth stuff.

I found him at lunch, as we arranged-- I have to admit, I was a little impressed. He was pretty efficient, and hadn't been busted. He had even _folded_ the jeans!

"I had ten minutes for _American Gladiator_," he explained. "Thought I'd reunite _my_ ways with the civilized while I watched."

When I was finished eating, (and assuring him my wallet was at home and I'd pay him there--- at this, he face-palmed himself, wondering why he hadn't robbed me) I left to put the jeans in my locker. I couldn't get Jace's open on my own anyway, I'd have to wait until between classes, when he had it open. I hadn't gone to look for Simone-- she didn't have this lunch today. Instead I ate with some other kids, who were friendly enough but I didn't see hard-core friendship developing between any of us too soon.

It was weird... I found myself looking for Zane. When I had talked to him yesterday by our lockers, it had been like... like he was a different person. But anywhere I half-mindedly "checked", he wasn't there. Hm. Well, I had Kohlan's next-- ugh, what is the deal with me? It's like the most random of thoughts just pop into my head! Sometimes I think my head is controlled by some other entity.

(Hm, I wonder what _we're_ here for!)

Don't start, please.

I honestly don't have time for Inner Selves right now.

When lunch was over, I raced to my locker to get my jeans. I rolled them up as tightly as I could-- I didn't want to attract attention: I'm sure there were lots of other kids like Seth who would think I'd forgotten where the bathroom was or something. I hid the jeans under my binder, clutching both close to my chest, and maneuvered as well and as fast as I could through the crowded halls.

At last, I think I saw him-- yeah, it was him. His locker was wide open. How convenient, he was turned away talking to a friend. It still escaped me how in the world he had gotten into my locker. Maybe he had hacked the school system.

How romantic...

(A moment while I vomit...)

You stay out of this!  
I tried to blend in with the passing people, avert my eyes, anything to look normal. Somehow, I made it too his locker unseen-- he laughed at something his friend had said and I almost froze in fear, but it was okay-- if he turned and saw me, I could just...

Just put the jeans in his locker already!  
I checked behind me, around me...

Checked Jace.

And threw in the jeans, like they were a bomb about to go off in my hand.

I hurried off around the corner. I think my heart was going to beat up my throat and out my mouth.

Ew...

-----------

Later, in Mr. Kohlan's class, Zane wasn't there.

But, so what...?

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**A/N**: thanx for reading guys! don't have much to say now... except watch out for the next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7: Ninth Symphony

7: NINTH SYMPHONY

**A/N**: I AM REPOSTING SINCE THE JEANS! Chapter by chapter! So sorry if stuff throws you off! try not to read so fast! (teehee)

Who's seen High School Musical 2? (anyone who cares, anyway) i loved it! My fav song is 'Bet On It' by Zac- ow ow! I wanna see Zuko sing that song. that would be sizzling... lol now to the fic...

Ok, Kade needs help telling the story! hope you like new voices. Please don't hate anyone too soon-- people can and do change! (lol) thanx a ton for reading and reviewing!! Oh, and one thing-- any passage that starts "My name is...", that's someone besides Kade telling the story. If it DOES NOT start with "my name is," than we're back to Kade's story. Cool? Cool. Enjoy!

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My name is Jace. And today the weirdest thing happened-- I don't know how or why. It was between classes-- My friend Juan and I had been talking for a while. He's one of those kids who can talk forever, and I was only getting half of what he was saying, because I was going through my MP3 player at the same time.

Then out of the blue, some other guys I know, David and Samson and Packard, all started making a big fit about something. I wasn't interested-- they're all idiots, but at our ages that's like an endearment, so I just ignored them. I thought not-humoring them would shut them up, but then kept hitting me in the back and wolf-whistling and crap. Finally it was getting annoying and I turned around, and they showed me my locker.

There was a pair of jeans inside: some chick's. I took them out and looked at them, not really impressed. Around me, everyone was freaking out, talking about some dumb magazine I don't even read-- I told them all to shut up, but I couldn't help being amused. It was actually kind of funny-- like, why did a chick leave her jeans in my locker? I had lots to choose from-- it was probably Sienna or something. Or maybe Simone. I'd like a visit from her-- too bad she hates me now, she was one of my favorite girlfriends. The jeans looked pricey... looked like something Hailey would wear...

Anyway, the bell had rang, so I had to get rid of the jeans somehow... It's not like they were staying in my locker, not after the warm welcome they'd gotten. I curled them up under my arm and slipped some ways down the hall, trying to ignore all the stupid remarks the guys were making-- But in time, I started laughing, and just threw the jeans in a random open locker. It was pretty funny...

Oh, shoot, if I'm late to one more class, my dad's gonna kill me...

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My name is Holden. Girls are awesome. And... I guess you could say I like Kade... I don't know, really, it's just weird. I meet her, I like her like a friend, then I try to spew out some kind of point in another direction, then I drop it, and now... it's coming back to haunt me.

I thought she wasn't into me... but I found her jeans in my locker! Now you'll say, 'Hah, you wish they were hers'... and I may be wrong, if I hadn't seen her wearing that very pair when we went to the movies with Simone and A.J..

And I'll make one thing clear: I'm not a _Teen Rev_ reader, I just hang out with Simone, and she's rabid about it! So that's how I know about the jeans thing. I honestly don't know how hard they're paying to get those dumb tips out there, but this one seems to be a little more... I don't know, cool, I guess. I mean, kids like it.

First of all, I found her jeans in my locker in the middle of third period, after first lunch, when I was using a hall-pass to get a forgotten homework assignment... I don't know how'd she gotten them there. I had had it open sometime during lunch. Convenient, I know, but I'm not that desperate!

Hey, I'm not gonna complain. She's really cute, and really nice, and hey, so what if she doesn't know a thing about basketball? I guess she _is_ interested in me. And if she asked me this way, I'll have to respond the same way, too, won't I?  
Tomorrow, she'll get her answer. But just for today, maybe I'll walk her home.

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I was trembling all through that day-- honestly, I don't get what the huge deal was! I mean, if Jace felt about me enough to do the whole Unknownawear gig, then why am I worried about looking stupid by doing it back? It drives me crazy when there's only one thing I can think about for the rest of the day. Has that ever happened to you? I feel like I'm being force-fed a poison. A poison of anxiety. That's the pits.

Well, I finally got myself to relax. Everything was going to be fine. Jace was going to get my reply, and then we'd be dating, and...

Oh my gosh, was this real? Was I going to wake up and find out Jace never existed? He's the stuff out of movies!

(Here we go again...)

Oh, stop pestering me, I'll be a girl if I want to. Come on, what else could happen? Jace is a good guy-- he wouldn't play jokes like this on people. And anyway, everyone reads _Teen Revolution_--

(Heh, except you.)

Let me finish! Everyone reads _Teen Revolution_, so there's not going to be the same mix-up I had. I've learned the lesson, and now I know!

Okay. Once I got that settled in my brain, the rest of the school day went by smoothly. I felt a little lighter, the day was a little warmer. It was like spring had finally decided to show it's shy face. The halls were a little looser, a little quieter. Man! When you get something out of your system, it really shows!

Finally the last bell rang, and I felt ready to go home-- I wanted to fantasize about what Jace and I would do together, how we'd get to know eachother. My first date-- Hah! I'm such a nerd! Well, I guess everyone gets excited about a first date, so why am I beating myself up for it?

At my locker, I found myself glancing down a few doors at Zane's. I don't know why his locker number had stuck with me, it just had. I stared at it for a long time, for some totally alien reason I don't even want to discover, and finally blinked myself to life, telling myself I needed to get a grip...

Books in, sweater out, pen in, cell phone out... Routine, just like Utah, and soon I was on my way to Seth.

But as I neared his locker, someone clipped me on the arm.

I turned around-- and Holden was there beside me, smiling as usual.  
"Hey, Kade," he said smoothly, flipping long, chestnut bangs from his eyes.

"Hi!" I grinned. It was nice to see a familiar face-- I hadn't had any classes, not even lunch, with Simone today.

"So, I was wondering if I could walk you home?" He sounded different-- was there something I didn't know here?  
I felt cheerful, so my natural answer was, "Sure, I'd love that! Let me check with my brother. I'll warn you, it's kind of a long distance."  
"Nah, I think I live just a few houses down from you."

"Really?" I blinked. Well, this was new!

"Yeah." He chuckled. "I saw your brother pull up in the driveway when I was out with my dad."  
"Did you?" I giggled. "When?"

"Around six, yesterday."  
"Oh," I chuckled, sharing my own inside joke. "That's okay, then."  
Before he could ask for an elaboration, I set a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"So, wait here, I'll go pass the news!"

He nodded.

"Sure-- yeah."

I maneuvered the humanity (I had grown pretty fluent in it after Junior High AND High School) and came up on Seth's locker--

But he wasn't there.

I glanced around-- this wasn't the time, Seth, I had someone waiting...

"Dude! Throw it, I'll catch it!"  
It wasn't Seth, but the voice drew attention-- It was somewhere right behind me. About thirteen heads, including mine, turned to our backs.

A kid about Seth's age with dark hair was standing in front of the opposite wall, looking up, his hands outstretched over his head and cupped as if he were praying. It was weird at first, but when we all followed his eyes--

Seth was leaning over the railing of the second floor, holding a pink slushie out over the other kid's head.

For a moment, the only thought that registered with me was 'I don't know this idiot, I don't know this idiot...'

"Back up!" Seth called.

"Just drop it, I got it!"

"Wait, no, stay there-- okay, catch!"

And he threw it. He actually threw it. I didn't think he would, but--

No. I did think he would.

I knew he would.

If he had dropped it, and if they had rehearsed the exchange a thousand times, the cup might have landed in the other guy's hands.

But, since Seth is a moron, he didn't _drop_ it like he should have, he chucked it _forward_.

He gave it a little _momentum_, a little more air to ride.

Sm-ooooooth, Seth. Smooth.

A few girls screamed-- the slushie fell, _totally_ overshooting the other boy's head, landing three feet behind him and shattering like a firework: pink slush splattered everywhere, the cup lay in pieces amid a pile of it's own blood... It was like in the action movies!

Laughter burst like the cup had, people muttering what idiots the two were, others laughing too hard to speak. I wasn't laughing, I was just cradling my forehead in my fingers, closing my eyes, looking down, hoping my identity would be stolen in the next five seconds.

"Augh!" the kid shouted up at Seth, laughing in the way that said 'I'm in deep sludge'. "You son of a--!"  
Seth was doubled over, clutching his face like a distressed old woman and laughing himself purple-- I watched, in disgust and amusement, as he raced down the staircase. Mine weren't the only pair of eyes following his every move. People (mostly bored Seniors) were slowly dispersing, still chuckling and muttering over the incident, but not interested in getting busted for it either. I watched Seth dance across the splattered slush over to his locker, completely ignoring his buddy, who had turned and was laughing incredulously, his hands still frozen in their upright position.

"Someone oil that kid!" Seth laughed nervously, ramming into me as he approached his locker.

"What the-- hey, yo! Wussup?"  
"Nothing," I said nastily, "just, um... pink slushie."

"Yeah," he panted, grinning anxiously, "help yourself--"

And he went about tearing his locker open, pulling stuff out as fast as he could--

"A friend is walking me home," I said dryly.

His eyes flickered and he stared at me for a brief moment.

"Simone?" he asked, his face turning the color of the slush.

"No," I said icily. "His name is Holden."

"Oh, okay--" He snatched up a few more things, and then turned to squint at me in suspicion.

"This isn't the boy that_ awoke the demon inside_, is he? The one you bit my head off about?"

"No," I snapped. "That boy isn't here today."  
"Good-- you be home by three thirty at least, I don't want any funny buisness here!"

"Oh, thank you, Seth, I know you're saying that just because you care about me and not because you'll get busted by Gran if you don't."

He pointed a finger at me, looking somewhat insane.

"You better believe it. On time, clean, and no hickeys!"  
"I'm not a pervert like you, yah boob!" I smacked him over the head-- he staggered feet away, clutching his things.

"All right, all right--! "

And he scampered from the school like a pedestrian fleeing a burning building, turning and selling his buddy one last laugh before busting through the double doors and out onto the parking lot.

I sighed in exasperation, not even daring to meet anyone's eyes, and stepped over the slushie mess back down the hall towards Holden.

As I approached him, I tried to fix up my face-- He was watching over my shoulder, staring in confusion at the laughing huddle of kids.

"What happened over there?" he asked, chuckling, shifting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder.

"The circus came to town," I droned, nodding. "Shall we go, then?"  
He blinked and caught my eye, instantly grinning.

"Yeah, let's go."

------------

It was strange walking home-- usually I'm in the front seat of Seth's car. Now, I was watching the same trees and buildings go by just... a lot more slowly. But it was cool-- It was nice to slow down now and again.

Holden was pretty quiet: it was weird, back in school he'd seemed really loose, had a lot to say. Now, it was like self-consciousness was his new best friend. I kept stealing glances at him. Was he blushing? I cleared my throat, hungry for a conversation. If he was gonna be shy the whole time, this was going to be my mistake.

"Well, it's getting warmer out..."

"Yeah," he said enthusiastically. "I, um... my team's actually been planning on practicing outdoors again, but they always turn on the sprinklers right as we get there, so it's more like ice-skating than basketball."

I laughed politely, one of those flirty laughs that can pass as amusement. In reality, I was cooking up a plan to get through this walk if he wasn't going to come out of his shell...

"Of course, then we just go inside... out coach is a bigger guy, he's not... not one for ice, not very graceful--"

He cut himself off, folding his hands over his lips and stopping in his tracks, turning to face me. I blinked, and stopped immediately to face him-- I was afraid he'd shout at me to drop and give him fifty if I didn't.

"Listen, I suck at stalling-- to tell you the truth, Kade, I just--"

"Wussup, Taylor?"  
That voice was way too familiar-- I felt my heart leap right into my brain. My mind pretty much unhinged-- I was some starry-eyed preschooler.

Jace stood behind Holden, totally alone, with his usual one-ear MP3 player look, totally binderless. He looked great with it. He was about a foot taller than Holden-- probably ten feet taller than me.

I was probably smiling-- or else my tongue was hanging out of my head, either one. I glanced at Holden--

And was surprised to see his expression. He looked livid, like someone had just dumped pickle juice over his head. He pursed his lips, closing his eyes for a moment (hey, I knew that look... I bet he was praying for patience!) and slowly turned to face Jace.

"Hello, _Jace_," he said bitterly.

Jace only smirked. A coffee straw was set between his teeth-- he angled it upward as he met my eyes.

"Hey, you're the one I met at the theater."

I squeaked. Yeah, he'd have to learn chipmunk to communicate with me now.

He flicked his bangs in acknowledgment.

"Kade. How's it goin', kid?"  
I squeaked again. There's an index of chipmunk-to-english on page fifty seven, just so you can follow along.

Jace looked back at Holden, apparently not trusting his translating skills.

"Well, Jace," Holden said nastily. "What cha listening to? Antioch Arrow? Eminem? Mohinder?"  
"Mozart," Jace replied.

Silence. Holden snorted.

"Shut up. Just shut up."

Jace shrugged, holding out the free earphone. Holden snatched it and jammed it into his ear. I watched his face-- he concentrated, then blanched.

"You listen to _classical music_?!" He leapt back like Jace was a disease.

Jace cocked his head in indifference, tucking the free phone in his shirt.

"Hey, it makes seventeen-year-olds smarter too."  
"Bugs Bunny I like coleslaw on my fireworks..." Yeah, I said something along those lines... I swallowed and finally forced some sense out. "That's so impressive..."

Holden scowled, shrinking like a squashed bug.

"Well, you must be a _genius_," he said, his voice ice, his gaze death.

Jace winked at me, then shoved his fist playfully into Holden's shoulder.

"Later, kids."

And he set off into the parking lot, adjusting his earphone as he did.

Holden growled under his breath, shaking his head.

"That punk is gonna die someday, and by my hand."  
"What do you have against him?" I breathed, watching him slip into his car. My eyes were getting smaller, color was leaving my face. Gradually...

"Dude," Holden laughed bitterly, holding up his hands as if in surrender, "if you knew half the things about that thug, you'd turn on _Planet's Grossest Insects_ and shout, 'Ahh! Jace is on T.V.!'"

He sighed and started walking, and I had no choice but to follow. I watched Jace's car leave the parking lot, then sighed and looked back at Holden.

"Well, I think he's sweet."

Holden snorted.

"Whatever you say. How many times have you talked to him, anyway?"  
I blushed again, turning away.

"Well... this would be the second."  
Holden sighed.

"Well, I can't account for your interactions, but the Jace I know isn't the Brad Pitt he appears to be."

"I don't think that's entirely true," I said reasonably. "I mean, he seems friendly to everyone. He doesn't bully kids."  
"_Most_ kids," Holden said, shaking his head. "Let's just say when Jace hates someone, he _hates_ them."

I shrugged.

"Well, have you ever seen him 'hate' someone?"  
Holden's lips pursed again.

"Well, no," he said stiffly, "I just... You'll just have to trust me on this one."

"What's the danger? As long as you're a friend to him, he's a friend to you, right?"  
He stopped me again, holding one of my shoulders and staring at me seriously.

"Please, Kade, just... respect the distance between the two of you. And keep it."

I blinked. I really wasn't understanding-- what was so demonic and dangerous about Jace? Holden talked about him like he was... a criminal, or something. Even if, it wasn't a topic I wanted to dwell on for too long.

"So does he really listen to Mozart?" I asked with a smirk.

We walked a little lighter after that.

-----------

When we got to my driveway, it was around three-forty-five. Seth was gonna flip. I could see it now...

_FIFTEEN MINUTES LATE, YOU LITTLE SQUID!! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED IN FIFTEEN MINUTES??!! TURN AROUND, I NEED TO SEE YOUR BELT! TUUUURRNN ARROOOOUUUND! OKAY, YOU PLAYED IT SAFE THIS TIME, BUT DON'T GO TRUSTING THAT IGNORANT LITTLE HEAD OF YOURS AGAIN! YOU HEAR ME? YOU ALMOST GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK!_

It could continue, but I only have so room in my head for exasperation.

I smiled at Holden, who was looking over Seth's car.

"Well, thanks for walking me home," I said. "It was... enlightening."

We chuckled for a moment-- he ran his hand through his bangs, looking down at the sidewalk.

"Thanks for coming with me. I'm way too awkward to be true, I guess."

"Not at all," I said. "You're way fun, Holden."  
He smiled at me.

"Yeah? Simone knows the limits of it, too."

I chuckled again-- and suddenly, the most random thought came into my head. I had no idea why I asked it, but I did.

"What do you think of Zane Ashborne?"  
Holden blinked-- yeah, I know, scary, isn't it, bud? When you hang around me enough, you get a taste of my random mind...

"Eum..." he shrugged, totally baffled. "I don't know him that well. Is he-- Aeva Ashborne's brother?"  
"Yeah," I said, squinting down at the sidewalk. "I've just... I T.A. a class he's in, so I've got a little exposure. He's a... definitely a different kid than you'd usually meet."

Holden nodded, but I could tell he was uninterested.

"Yeah, well, I've heard some kids talk about him... They think he's doin'... drugs, you know, bad stuff... But I don't know--"

"I don't think he is," I said absently. I wasn't talking to Holden anymore, just myself.

"Nah..." I shook my head, then looked back at Holden. He was looking at me modestly, but I bet to him I'd now officially come off as crazy.

I blinked myself out of it and grinned.

"Well, anyway-- thanks again."

He smiled.

"No problem. I'll see you... tomorrow, Kade."  
"Sounds great!" I backed up the drive way, waving. "See yah!"  
"Bye."  
I turned my back to his smile and hurried inside.

Seth hadn't let me down for a second. The instant I shut the door, he stood before me like a cat over a mouse. He had me cornered, and he knew it. Eyes beady, face scrunched, he shoved his wrist in my face. I blinked and focused my eyes on the numbers on his digital watch-- three-forty-seven.

"Well?" he snapped. "What's the story?"  
I lifted an eyebrow.

And screamed.

He leapt back like Holden had from Jace, jaw slack.

"GRAN!" I shrieked. "GRAAAAN!"

Footsteps thudded from the upstairs-- Gran came hobbling as fast as she could into the kitchen.

"What is it? Darn it all, what in justice is going on down here?!"  
"Seth just flipped me off!" I screamed.

"What?!" Seth spun around. "No I didn't!"

"SETH HADLEY WATERS!" Gran screeched.

"I did not flip her off!" Seth protested. "I showed her my watch, that's all! No finger! WRIST!"

"Don't you say another word!" Gran barked. "You, in the kitchen! NOW!"

"Gran, _I didn't flip Kade off_!"

"KITCHEN! NOW!"  
Seth growled, flashing me a stinging glance.

"I'm gonna find out what happened in those fifteen minutes," he snarled. "There's a storm comin'."  
"I'll let you know when I care," I said, smirking, as he jabbed his (index!) finger in the air at me, accentuating a threat, and followed a furious Gran into the kitchen.

I sighed, forcing back a laugh, and hurried up the stairs to my room.

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**A/N**: lol this chapter was a lot about the humor... I just felt like being funny. The Jace and Holden stuff especially- their exchange was originally a comic strip I'd done for my friend last school year. - I love Jet, don't get me wrong! It's all development... Thanx so much for reading/reviewing guys!! you're awesome!


	8. Chapter 8: A Little More Of Everything

8: A LITTLE MORE OF EVERYTHING

**A/N**: so, i just started reading the Stephanie Meyer books... Twilight is awesome. I'm behind on the fling... but i wasn't motivated to read it until my friend who's a BOY started reading it, then i thought, ok, i should read this book. The Edward x Bella stuff is good practice for Kade x Zane-- it has a Zutara feel to it, at least at a few standpoints. Towards the beginning, definitely.

anyway! enjoy this chapter-- ZaZa is back! yay! -

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Seth wouldn't talk to me all that morning-- he had that sly look on his face, really exaggerated... He looked like some crooked old man with a twisted scowl. Where have I seen that before? A villain in some cartoon... Well, it was almost comical, and I had to keep wiping my mouth, hiding my smile in my napkin, to keep him from hitting me. There were times in the kitchen when he's turn to a cupboard and as he did, he'd jab a pointer at me, wearing that overworked expression of strategy... Puh. Hilarious.

Gran was like that too, except she was releasing all her comic suspicion and distaste on Seth. You should have heard her banging him last night-- not pretty. I was glad I had a good reason. I tried not laughing too hard into my milk. Very difficult, hope I never have to do this again...

When everything finally jumbled together, I followed a disgruntled Seth out the door, after kissing Gran good-bye, of course. She gave me one of those pitiful, hopeful looks that parents give their spoiled youngest child. Ah, relish...

Seth drove in silence, a little more reckless that usual, but I thought it better not to say anything. When we arrived at the school, he leapt from the driver's seat like it had caught fire and was half way to the school before I had closed the passenger door. I chuckled and was content to walk twenty feet behind him. He'd cool off-- we fought like this a lot.

I caught up with Simone and Holden by their lockers-- Holden blushed when he saw me, and I was reminded of our encounter with Jace in the parking lot. I hid another smile-- it was like today I was the bearer of all secrets. What happens here, stays here.

Simone and I had fun in Wulsy's class-- we were watching a movie today on the War of 1812. I didn't want to be rude to her, but my thoughts were wondering, so I didn't get any of the movie. Instead Simone and I doodled, exchanging crappy drawings under our desks, giggling at eachother's' lack of talent. First, she drew her favorite scene from a book, some popular romance about a girl and a vampire, and I tried drawing Holden's face yesterday when we met Jace. That, of course, required a story, as did her scene, so we then exchanged notes, explaining our drawings, however sucky they were. She insisted mine was better than hers, and I did the same visa versa. You know, the usual. Holden sat some ways away, so he couldn't participate, but I think I could sense that his eyes certainly weren't on the movie screen.

I walked between Simone and Holden, those of us breaking off as necessary when we approached our classes. Simone left first, then Holden, who was just in the classroom right beside mine. Second period vanished in an instant, and before I knew it I was headed to Kohlan's.

I was unconsciously keeping an eye out for Zane. I certainly didn't want to run into him and start our whole bitterness all over again. That would be just a little pathetic. I tried not to glance immediately at his desk when I walked in-- but as I walked down the isle, it became almost reflexive, and I saw him.

He was bent over his desk, in the same black sweater with a high collar, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His head hung between his hands and he was massaging the back of his neck as if he was in pain. I tried to look away but as I approached him I caught a glimpse of the base of his head.

The skin was pink and badly irritated-- peeling, even. It looked like a bad scrape, not a sunburn, because the surrounding skin was chalk white and dry as the Sahara. I bit my lip in sympathy and continued on, glad he hadn't met my eyes.

I sat down at Kohlan's desk-- he never sat in it himself-- and began typing in the grades of a freshly scored stack of quizzes. Zane had been absent the day of that quiz.

Mr. Kohlan was at the other end of the room, leaning against the wall, reading off a clipboard. Kids were talking quietly, a few boys dorking around in the back and laughing-- he didn't seem to mind. But soon the bell rang to signal class's start, and he shrugged from the wall and strode serenely to the front of the class.

"Miss Waters," he said casually. I looked up instantly.

"Yes, sir?"  
"At eleven-o-clock, if you would please take Mr. Ashborne down to the auditorium so he can take the quiz he so conveniently missed yesterday, and stay with him until he completes it."

"Yes, sir," I said, my gut squirming slightly. Great-- a period alone with Zane? How would that turn out? I stole a glance at him--

He wasn't looking at me, but I wasn't look at his eyes. On his neck, just under his ear, was a scrape similar to the one at the base of his head. It was much larger, and looked redder than the first. I could see blood clotting underneath. I bit my lip again-- I wasn't smooth around blood, not very tough. I wondered how they had happened. They looked like the kind of scrapes you get when you biff on the pavement and catch yourself on the palms of your hands. The kind that sting like outer darkness. I hate them-- but I'd never had ones like his.

Eleven seemed to come in an instant, like every other part of the day. I preferred that, though-- it was better than my whole life dragging it's feet from one task to the next.

I rose quietly, nervously, approaching Zane with my things.

"Let's go," I muttered at his desk, and he lifted his head to look up at me, staring at me for a moment that was way longer in my head... Finally he stood, running a hand through his long black bangs, scowling.

"Ashborne-- here, please," Kohlan said, standing over his desk. Zane strode two paces to the teacher's desk. Kohlan straightened from the computer and handed him two or three papers stapled at the corner and a blue bubble sheet.

"How'd you do Wednesday?" he asked him in undertone.

Zane shrugged, sighing.

"Still feel it, that's for sure," he mumbled, melancholy, and winced.  
Kohlan smirked in a chuckle and rapped Zane's good arm lightly.

"Go on, get out of here."

Zane turned immediately, wetting his lips, steeling a glance at me before I joined him in our treck to the door, wading through way too many immature stares, it was pathetic.

I was last out, shutting the door quietly, then turning to walk awkwardly with him down the hall.

"Did you study?" I asked casually, trying at humor.

He glanced at me, lifting an eyebrow.

"It's more important I study other stuff right now," he said glumly.

"Like?" I was aiming at a conversation, but he didn't answer willingly.

"Channel forty-seven," he muttered, as if to himself.

I blinked. He just walked on, so I just followed. I could tell it was the end of _that_ chapter.

The auditorium looked a lot bigger when it was empty-- rows of blue seats all ghostlike in their vacancy. A few lights were on down the aisle, as well as some cruddy over-lights that were just a dim glow to distort your vision as you maneuvered through the seats. Up on stage, another sucky over-light was lit for two or three stage workers, who were fidgeting with ladders and wires, stuff I was foreign too and took no interest in.As far from us as they could be, right in the seats at the front corner of the stage, two other kids sat. They looked like a teacher and a student, bent over some work.

I looked back at Zane-- he was moving fluently to the far right of the auditorium, falling down into one seat about ten rows down from the back, on the very end, right behind an aisle light. I followed with a sigh, throwing my bag on a seat right in front of him. I wasn't gonna sit directly in the light, so moved one more row towards the stage, sitting backwards at the end and folding my arms over the top of the seat. I watched him for a moment, until he looked up, as if wigged I was there.

"He didn't ask you stare at me, did he?" he said irritably. I blinked slowly, determined not to let his attitude upset me.

"No. I just assumed it was a perk."

"Yeah," he grumbled sarcastically. "You can always look for perks in job descriptions, 'specially with Kohlan."  
We sat in silence for a moment-- he answered a couple questions and then, just for the pleasure of annoying him, I started up the vocal engine again.

"What do you think of Kohlan?"  
He lifted an eyebrow at me, looking more ghostlike than usual since he sat behind the light.

"What I think is that he told you to let me take the quiz."

"So you _want_ to take it?"  
"No. It's something called a _passing grade_ that I want. I need."  
"I'm just stalling for time. You don't want to go back to class, do you?"  
He sighed, grimacing down at his paper.

"Do you know an application form's definition of culinary arts?"

"What's 'culinary'?"  
He sighed again, marking what I assumed to be a random answer. I didn't know why I felt like talking to him-- maybe I just liked getting on his nerves. Or maybe I was in the talking mood. I had chatted a lot with Holden and Simone before school...

"Does it have something to do with a kitchen?" I asked.

He shrugged. I smirked.

"Do you pay attention in _any_ classes?"  
"It seems I have no choice in _this_ one-- and it's only my first day."  
"Hey, be nice, I'm just trying to be friendly, here."  
"Yeah, well, I'm trying to not get my life busted, here. Talking class isn't exactly helpful."  
I blinked in curiosity, watching him closer as he read through other questions, grumbling under his breath, marking answers like he was swatting flies. I was growing amused-- I didn't think he'd be this easy to irritate. Usually, with us, it's the other way around.

"Do you want to know something?" I asked.

He glared at me.

"What?"  
"You remind me of my brother right now."  
"Wow. Hand me the solid-gold cuby doll."  
"He's in your kind of mood right now."  
"I can only imagine why."  
"He brought it on himself."

"Really."

"Really. You know, you're way too easy."  
He blinked angrily.

"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"I'm not even trying, and I've got you running up a wall."  
His eyes relaxed and he sighed, looking back down at his quiz.

"Very good, ZaZa," I mused. "Forbearance is a virtue, you know."  
"_What_ did you call me?" he snarled through his teeth.

"Oh, sorry-- I thought you preferred that."

It was evil, but I had to smile.

He looked up at me, not in anger this time, just confusion and annoyance. Denial.

"I don't know you..." He looked back down at his quiz.

I laughed. He glared.

"You're way too easily entertained," he said gruffly. "It's gonna get you in trouble someday."  
"Just by you," I said fondly. "You have to give me some leisure, I mean, come on-- we've done nothing but fight since we met... I wasn't even the one to break the ice."

His brow furrowed.

"What? I never once approached you on purpose."  
"I didn't say you did it on purpose."  
He sighed.

"What did I do, then?"  
"You ran into my my first day here, in the office. Were you drunk, by any chance? It was like stepping in front of a semi."  
He blinked, baffled. "That was you?" he said.

"Don't act like you don't know," I said, rolling my eyes.

"No," he said, a little more smoothly, "I'm just proud now of how hard the impact was."

My brow dropped this time, but he only looked down at his quiz. I couldn't tell if he was smirking or not.

"Well, I'm glad you're proud of yourself," I said distastefully.

"I'm glad you're glad," he muttered back vaguely.

"Good," I snapped.

"Fine," he said, lifting his eyebrows like a sass.

I pouted for a moment longer, then smirked.

"How'd you get those scrapes?"  
He looked askance at me.

"I was thinking you were going to ask about the obvious scrape." And he winked his bad eye, the one cuddled in scrunched pink skin.  
I gulped.

"Everyone has their assumptions about that one," I said quietly.

He sighed, shaking his head slightly.

"Just accidents," he muttered.

I lifted an eyebrow.

"I don't get an elaboration?"  
He shook his head.

I sighed.

"Okay. That's cool."

We sat in silence for a moment longer, he still scribbling at his quiz like he could care less what his answers were.

"Do you really know the answer to any of those?" I asked after watching his hand for a while.

He closed his eyes like Holden had when facing Jace.

"Not all of them," he said. "I know enough."  
I snorted.

"How do you know _that_?"

"I know much many wrong answers will land you with a reasonable B. I'd prefer an A minus, in this case, but I don't know how probable that is, really..."

"You can calculate that?" I asked, more amused than impressed. "On any quiz?"  
"Lots of kids can," he said quietly.

"I can't," I said, chuckling.

He shrugged.

"I'm not always the careless punk I appear to be," he said in his coarse voice, yet it was gentle, reserved.

I was quiet, a little surprised, and got a good look at him: one black shoe was up on the back of the seat in front of him-- pale, washed-out blue jeans, fraying badly at the ends, torn a little at the knees... I noticed his jeans more than I had in the past. (I'd been recently occupied by the matter...) His shirt was maroon, slightly red, his sweater black and tight around his chest and arms, sleeves rolled up his forearms like always, collar perked high around his jaw... I remembered other stuff he would wear... a small gray hoodie, similar jeans, different shirts... But mostly he always looked the same. His hair was the same: black, rugged and unkempt, long around his eyes and ears. And then, as always, his scar. It went disturbingly well with his outfit-- I don't think I'll tell him that.

It was then that I noticed, looking at his lowered face, that he wasn't that bad looking. In fact, if he wasn't scowling so much, there may be girls who'd think he was pretty cute. Maybe _I_ would! Hey, it was a possibility. I wasn't saying I thought he was cute _now_-- Though, even _when_ scowling, he was a pretty fair match to other boys... but, that didn't mean--

(Ah, come on, be a girl.)

Oh, shut up-- he pales next to Jace.

(Really.)

Really!

Well, anyway, what do they know... I sighed in self-annoyance, and Zane caught it. He glanced at me, wary, confused. I met his eyes and lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes?"  
He shook his head, his eyes lingering on mine before lowering and disappearing under his bangs.

I smiled.

---------

He finished at eleven-forty. I think he'd used my strategy of stalling for time, or maybe our talking had been enough. We walked back in silence, though I think he was smirking. As we crossed the main hall, he clipped my arm.

"Wait a second."

I blinked, watching him as he checked his area before setting off towards the vending machines. I snorted, hands on my hips.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

He glanced back at me and I saw his smirk clearly. I shook my head, smirking myself, and glanced over my own shoulders before hurrying after him.

"You're going to get in trouble," I said in undertone when I reached his side.

"Oooh, that's terrifying," he muttered, rummaging in his pockets for some coins. "You want something?"  
I chuckled.

"Lunch is next period."

"So?"  
"So get something then!"

"Yeah, but I'm thirsty now."  
He slid fifty cents into the coke machine, pressing for a bottle of diet pepsi.

"Ew," I said, wrinkling my nose as it thudded noisily into the slot. "You drink that stuff?"  
He shrugged. "Better than Minute Maid."  
"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'd die before I drank anything _diet_. They're an embarrassment to soda."

He fingered the bottle, smirking at me _again_. I blinked.

"You're going to drink that now?" I whispered, stunned.

He lifted an eyebrow, amused, and cracked the seal on the lid.

"Shh!" I hissed, to his further amusement, and he raised the bottle to his lips to take a long swig.

I shook my head, watching his eyes glitter humorously as he lowered the drink.

"So-- you want something?" he asked again.

I laughed incredulously. "Sorry, I'll not get busted for sluffing. Let's go back to class."

There I go, Little Miss Right.  
"You _will_ get busted if you keep talking so loud," he murmured, leaning closer, lifting an eyebrow knowledgeably. I just blinked-- his breath was hot on my face.

"You can't take that back to class," I whispered indignantly.

He took another swig.

"I don't plan to."

"You're just going to sit out here and miss it?"

I honestly don't know why I was so stunned-- I'd considered ditching classes many times myself, but that's only because I hated them. The way Zane was handling it seemed... different.

He rummaged in his pocket again, withdrawing some more coins.

"If you're going to sit out here _with_ me, you might as well get a drink."  
"I won't be standing out here," I said confidently, "I'll be going back to class like I should."  
Ugh, such the angel.

"Okay, then, I'll buy you one to shut you up," he said.

"You--!" I raised my fist--  
"Shhh."

He grabbed my wrist, overpowering my effortlessly. He chuckled bitterly.

"You're going to get us screwed," he said.

I yanked my wrist free.

"And you care now?"

"Well, I'll admit tolerance is tight around here."

"It's San Diego-- what did you expect?"  
"I was going to ask _you_ that."  
I scowled, and he took another drink. At least he wasn't smiling like a pimp anymore.

"You like Lemon Lime?"  
I sighed. He wasn't going to quit, and I wasn't go to go back in that classroom without him.

"Whatever," I said.

He threw in the coins, and the bottle thudded down into the slot again. I winced, glancing around like the paranoid retard I was.

"Here," he said, holding out the drink.

I swiped it away, still grimacing, and cracked the seal roughly. After one long drink, I turned to him.

"You know, you don't seem the type that would do this," I said.

He lifted his bottle between us, sighing.

"I need a break every now and then."  
I stared hard into his eyes, like I didn't have a right to know him anymore. He was some other mystery I didn't have the files to.

So I just lifted my bottle and touched it to his.

"To a break."

We drank.

-----------

Miraculously, we didn't get caught. When we finished our drinks, we chucked the evidence deep in the garage bin and set off quickly to Kohlan's room. As we approached the door, Zane muttered under his breath,

"Now I erase all my answers and we ditch what thirty minutes are left."

I laughed, full on. He grinned from under his tilted head, chuckling softly, and opened the door. I closely followed him in, the last of our laughter on our faces as the class turned to see who had entered. I blushed at all their eyes, trying to hide my smile-- we stood there for a moment, not sure what to do, but then our smiles were wiped clean of our faces and we hurried quickly to our seats.

"Ah, welcome back..." Kohlan mused from the front. I sat at his desk, carefully, then glanced at Zane. He met my eyes over folded knuckles, and I glanced away after a brief second, a new smile tugging at my lips.

Kohlan's lecture extended the rest of the period, until the bell rang for lunch and everyone leapt from their seats as if pulled by strings. I stayed behind to organize papers, glancing up for one moment to watch Zane as he left. As he approached the door, one of the last, he too stole a glance in my direction-- our eyes met and he was the one to look away. I smiled secretlively and returned to my work.

Mr. Kohlan groaned, massaging his lips, approaching me slowly. I looked up at him respectfully, incase he would ask me to do something. Instead, he drew up a chair beside the overhead projection, leaning back and sighing as if exhausted.

"Ugh... you kids..." he massaged his lips again, closing his eyes.

"A little much?" I asked sympathetically, smiling.

He chuckled.

"For my age, yes. I should move down a few grades."

"That could just get worse."  
He laughed, a rugged, hoarse chortle. I liked it.

"That may be... well, my health can account for some of my exhaustion."  
"How are you feeling?" I asked politely, leaning against his desk.

He shrugged, sighing.

"Better than the last forty years," he said heavily. "You think bad habits could break a little easier, just for some slack."

I frowned, not sure what to say.

"Well," he grunted, opening his eyes to smile kindly at me, "you best be off."

"Right--" I smiled back, standing up from the desk.

"I'll see you next week, Mr. Kohlan."  
"Next week, then."  
I felt cheerful as I left his room.

----------

At lunch, I found a new pair of jeans in my locker.

A boy's, less expensive than the original pair, which were at my house, under my bed. Jace's. Oh, yeah, had he gotten my reply? I wonder why he didn't say anything about it yesterday... Maybe since Holden was there. Of course. I smiled to myself. But then maybe this was his reply!

But it seemed a little vague, didn't it?

"Are those yours?"  
I jumped, spinning around. Zane stood behind me, a tray of food under his arm like a basketball, staring at the jeans with a raised eyebrow.

"No!" I said, rolling them up into a bundle. "Can't you tell? They're too baggy for me."  
He smirked.

"Right. Not enough guts to fit in those."

My eyes narrowed-- he just chuckled.

"Excuse me, I had the drink with you. I stayed out there."  
He nodded. "I know..."

"So, what, then?"  
He just shrugged, turning away.

"I'm counting on you to get me my score on that quiz," he said.

"Why me?"  
"You're Kohlan's T.A."

"And?"  
"I'm impatient."

"You'll get it tomorrow-- relax. Kohlan's not feeling very well."  
Zane's brow furrowed. "What's wrong with him?"  
"I don't know," I said, shrugging sympathetically. "I think it has something to do with his... addiction, if I'm assuming right."  
"Oh, yeah..." Zane looked away, eyes clouded. "He hasn't had a cigarette in forty years, though."

I blinked.

"How do you know?"  
He shrugged, flipping bangs from his good eye. I caught a full glance of his face again--

(Yes. Quite cute...)

Shush! Not the time!

"He told me," he said. "It may not look like it, but compared to some others, I'm on his good side."  
I raised my eyebrows.

"Really. Is that why he asked about your scrapes?"  
Zane's brow furrowed. "He didn't. He asked about Wednesday."

"Still, I got that they were related. You never told me how they happened, by the way."  
He frowned-- his outmatched mine, badly. I was too much of a peach.

"I didn't mean to," he muttered, turning away.

I watched him move towards the front doors-- exactly where I was headed, once I got my food.

"You wanna sit with Simone and I?" I asked his back.

He looked at me over his shoulder and his expression was unreadable.

"No, thanks. I'll avoid the scowls rather than flirt with them."  
I shrugged.

"We don't think you're trash."  
He glared.

"And others do, yeah, I know."  
I blinked and looked down, ashamed.

"No, I didn't mean that-- I just-- sorry, I was being stupid again... I get carried away with my mouth, really. It's some kind of disease... I think it's genetic, I don't usually--"  
"Kade."  
I looked up-- he was right in front of me. He startled me, and I blinked again. Yep, that's me today, blinkety blink, blink, blink... You'd think I was flirting with my almost nonexistent eyelashes.

"Don't be late for Kohlan's tomorrow."  
I cocked my head, surprised, _again_.

"Why not?" I mirrored his very words, he mirrored mine.

"Because one sluff is worth five tardies," he replied, mischief glinting behind

his eyes, and with a smirk, he turned to walk away.  
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**A/N**: Yay, they're on talking level! (took a while...) so, hope you guys liked it!! Zutara forevah!!


	9. Chapter 9: That 'J' Word

9: THAT 'J' WORD...

**A/N**: Okay, i finished Twilight a couple days ago-- but what's with the hands and the apple on the cover? they never corresponded with anything in the book! did i miss something? hm. explanations, anyone? it's gonna bother me. overall, pretty awesome book! it calls for SERIOUS fan art. -

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That day after school, (behold my totally original and non repetitive introductions...) I invited Holden and Simone to my place in return for their own extended invitations. Holden's face lit up the instant I suggested it--- Simone smirked in his direction and agreed wholeheartedly. I didn't tell them about the new jeans--- like they'd be interested. I'd probably come off as a brag.

I brought the new pair of mystery jeans in a plastic bag, eager to tell the original that they had a friend to keep them company. In the back of my head, I was wondering when I could approach Jace and talk to him about the whole thing. I mean, he'd given me two pairs already, I wouldn't want him giving away everything.

After school, Seth still wouldn't talk to me, but he enthusiastically agreed to Simone's polite inquiry as to whether she and Holden could catch rides home with us. After three minutes of pretty much just fumbling over his things like a dork, Seth finally managed to get us all out the door and to his car. I gave Simone the passenger seat, since she was older than I was, and also because I didn't want Seth to have to crane his neck over the back of his seat to talk to her. Accidents aren't the most enjoyable things, especially when they're over something as embarrassing as a crush--- and, of course, I just fancy my life a bit; not too excited to place it entirely in Seth's hands. I think my choice to sit in the back had an effect on Holden, at least-- I just hoped he didn't get any false impressions... What's more, his eye caught the plastic bag in my grasp and he fidgeted a bit in his seat. But when I asked him what was up, he dismissed it with a shake of his head. Hm. Weird.

As we drove, Seth was talking fast to Simone, probably trying to sound funny, and she was giggling every now and then-- very uncharacteristic. I grew more and more relieved I had given her the front seat, and gave Holden all my attention when he began talking about his last basketball game. I learned one thing: our school was on a roll when it came to home games. And yet, I remain indifferent...

When we pulled up in the driveway, Seth didn't bother collecting all his junk-- instead he slid his butt over the hood of the car, actually quite smoothly, and landed in the precise location to open Simone's door for her. She laughed and accepted his action.

Holden and I slipped up the stairs to my room as Simone lingered at the bottom of the stairs to listen to Seth's prolonging "see yah". When he finally got a hold of his tongue, she hurried up after us.

I welcomed the two of them to totally make themselves at home because I, for one, wasn't going to waste one moment trying to look dignified in front of them. Throwing off my shoes, I tossed the bag of jeans under my bed, right next to the originals. I thought I saw Holden fidget again, but when I turned to look at him, he was staring at a stack of magazines. Simone, in the meantime, had found herself a nice spot on the carpet and was going through some papers from her binder.

"You guys chill up here," I said with a smile, "I'm gonna grab some sodas. Preferences?"

"Oh, whatever you have is fine," Simone said, right as Holden opened his mouth to order.

"We got... Fanta orange and root beer," I told them.

"Root beer, please," Holden mumbled. I nodded, glancing at Simone.

"I'll take a Fanta," she said cheerfully, and I headed quickly down the carpeted stairs to the kitchen.

Gran was in the adjoined sitting room, watching some soap opera, a massive bowl of chopped cantaloupe in her lap and a salad fork in her knobby grasp.

"You having fun on your day off, Gran?" I called from the fridge's icy breeze.

"Angelica's misjudging Eric again," she groaned, sighing. "Darn wh--"

"Okay, Gran," I said quickly. "That sounds great."

"So what are you kids up to?" she asked before feeding herself a peice of cantaloupe. In the background, I could hear Angelica's breathy Argentinean voice waft over some dramatic line of defiance.

"Just hanging out," I replied, fitting two Fantas and a root beer into my fingers.

A man's voice, desperate and just as over-dramatic as the woman's, protested at a hushed speed.

"You seen Seth?" Gran called after a moment of chewing a peice larger than she could handle.

"You mean he hasn't attacked you yet over that cantaloupe?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Gran waved her giant salad fork like a bat over her head.

"Ha! Let him come!"

I chuckled to myself and headed upstairs with the sodas.

----------

For the most part we chatted, sipping our sodas, all the time Simone being slightly more sociable than Holden. Holden seemed to draw back when the two of us spoke, watching the carpet with a queasy look on his face, fingering his soda can like he had lost an appetite for sugar.

So I was relieved when Simone slipped off to use the bathroom-- it meant I could get this whole queasiness once and for all. As soon as she left, I stood up and began going through some CD's on my shelf, trying to look casual. When I turned back, he had stood too.

"Kade?"

"What's up?"

The way I said it really told what I meant-- and he got it. He bit his lip, pressing his fingers together and looking down at the carpet.

"You found my jeans, didn't you?" he mumbled.

I blinked. I think my heart was pounding-- but it was hard to tell what with.

"Your jeans?" was all I could say.

His expression sharpened a bit, as if worried.

"Yeah. I put them in your locker this morning---" but then he cut himself off. He almost sounded apologetic! Poor kid...

I wasn't shocked, just surprised.

But, no. I really wasn't, was I?

Still... I wasn't ready to deal with it this way. I bit my lip too, my mind flying, and was beyond grateful when he beat me to words.

"I totally--- I mean---" his tongue tripped repeatedly. "Sorry--- really. I mean, I didn't think you felt that way, I just thought we were friends--"

"Woah. Hold on." I struck the air with my palms, and he fell silent in a cringe.

For a minute, all I could do was blink, my brow furrowed; he eyed me cautiously, a little anxiously, as if worried I'd become stone. I bet I looked like Mr. Bean or something.

"What?" It wasn't what I wanted to say at all, it was totally rude and unacceptable, but it was the first thing out of my mouth. I felt my gut drop to my ankles in regret.

"I--- I'm sorry, Holden, hold up---"

"You didn't put them there?" he plunged ahead as if hopeful. "You know, I totally understand, just a little misunderstanding--- I never even---"

"Holden, Holden, wait. Like, seriously. What is going on?"

"I didn't think you'd--- Okay. Look, Kade, I don't want to come off as... you know... I don't want to put you in a situation you don't wanna be in. Honestly, I had no intention of hitting on you--- I mean, it's not like I wouldn't--- No, no, I mean---"

"It's okay," I said quickly. "I think I get it."

"I just..." He ran a hand through his bangs. "I don't want you to feel insecure, really. And it's not like I'm not interested in you--- heck, if you wanna date, sure, I'm there, I'm just saying---"

"Date?" I laughed. "Holden, I..."

"Nuts, I know," he scurried on, laughing nervously with me. "So you don't feel that way, cool, I understand."

"I think you're relieved, actually," I said cautiously, smiling with a mischievous glimmer.

His eyes bulged. "Oh, Judas, no--- Kade, I'm not--- oh, no, I---"

I laughed again, waving my hands. "It's okay, it's okay. I understand."

He fell silent, licking his lips anxiously.

"Calm down," I chuckled, walking over to take his wrists and place them neatly at his sides.

He sighed, and so did I.

"I like your company, Hold," I said, smiling up at him. "Really, I do, a lot. Let's not have this awkwardness to worry about, okay? There's been a misunderstanding, hey, we can take it, right?"

He grinned. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I'm really sorry about this, I was just confused and kinda didn't know what to do and---"

"Buddy." I looked firmly into his eyes, but still smiling. "Seriously, forget about it. We're not romantic, and that's totally cool. All right?"

He nodded. "As long as it's all right with you, it's all right with me."

The door burst open and Simone fell onto the carpet, laughing her head off.

Seth's laughter joined a millisecond after-- he flew into the room, eyes wide in surprise, doubled over in his own mirth. He stood above her and extended his hands to help her up. They were both red from laughing... and from other things...

I met Seth's eyes and his smile disappeared-- Simone looked over her shoulder at Holden and blanched. It just a little awkward, you know, with me standing there holding Holden's wrists and we just previously smiling at eachother...

Seth wet his lips, chuckling in between syllables.

"We--- I--- She wasn't, she was really doing what she--- I just caught her down the hall---"

"Okay, Seth," I said, lifting an eyebrow. "That's fine."

I had to admit, they were hilarious together. Still, it wasn't like I wanted him intruding on every single day plan we made for the rest of our lives.

Seth nodded, his face going super nova, and nodded to Simone with one last smile before slipping clumsily from the room.

Simone shut the door after him, squeezing her eyes shut tight in embarrassment.

"Did we interrupt something?" she squeaked in rising dread.

Holden and I shared long glances and just laughed.

-----------

The next day at school (another ingenious and original opening to a statement), Holden beamed as he always did when I tapped him on the shoulder, talked with me just as enthusiastically. I didn't complain, though I was surprised-- maybe he still felt bad about the jean mix-up (no, Kade, he was feeling bad about beating you at checkers!) and was trying to make it up to me or something... even though I'd drilled it into his head to forget it... Anyhow, I decided if he wasn't being awkward about it, I might as well abide by my own rules. Before the end of the day, I'd forgotten it completely.

Still... the mix-up had spawned knew worries inside my own head about... other jeans. Had Jace gotten my jeans at all? Had I actually put my jeans in Holden's locker, not Jace's? I didn't really want to think about it-- I felt so sure it was the right locker. But still... it had been a few days now. Even if I hadn't replied, he'd be getting anxious about it, wouldn't he?

It had been his locker, I know it had... Jace was standing right next to it! He was! How in the world had my jeans ended up with Holden?

During A2, the teacher burst from her desk with a victorious whoop, proclaiming she had conquered the other english teachers in the battle for the media center-- We all lined up like knights preparing for battle, shaken a bit from her sudden celebration, and she lead us through the halls right into the library like she owned the place. We students didn't know really what to do--- she thrust some lame assignment on us and went about glutting her victory in rounds of humming, meandering tastefully about the aisles of books while we mingled, still spooked, to tables and bean bags to begin our work.

I was a loner in this period, and there were only about twenty-five kids in the class, so I spread my books and papers out over the table, vacant but for my seat, and began copying definitions unenthusiastically. My pencil was controlled by my hands while my mind wondered other places... I sighed. We were only ten minutes into the period; eighty-five minutes of this? I didn't think so. My eyes jumped around, looking for some other tables to migrate too, maybe a group of nice girls where I could fire up a whispered conversation. But all the other girls in my class would hang themselves before they did one thing wrong in their favorite english class-- therefore, my hopes were crushed. I seriously considered for about five minutes moving to sit with some spunky boys-- The spunkiest were just a bunch of dorks who spoke with that no-life video game vocabulary. All the other boys were too bored or too cool to discuss things: they kicked up their feet and were snoozing over the back of their chairs.

I sighed, considered their ingenious maneuvers, but I hated the way I looked when I slept (I had my theories... and evidence on my pillow... frightening, really...) and I wasn't about to expose that side of myself for everyone to enjoy. Grimacing, I turned back to my work, my eyes passing over the shelves of books as I did---

---and I spotted Zane. (HOLY CROW, WHO DA THUNK IT! I'll be seeing the angel Gabriel next.) And for once, I was glad to see him. Well... _relieved_ is the better word. Things were about to get interesting.

He was slouching against the brick wall, his feet crossed in front of him, a scowl on his face as he leafed through a book he clearly couldn't care less about. He wore the usual tattered jeans, and today was in a tight, navy-blue hoodie, and, without fail, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The collar of a white shirt was visible-- white. Huh... His hair still crowded his brow and ears, the angle of his head obscuring his scar from my view. He hadn't seen me.

I glanced frantically over both shoulders, checking the teacher, checking the library workers... All were preoccupied. I turned to look back at Zane, and he had chucked the book aside with obvious disdain and was running his finger over a new one on the shelf.

I needed a way to get his attention--- without getting screwed, that is. I administered one final check... in the clear... good. I crumpled up a random peice of paper--- hope that wasn't my assignment--- quickly so as to stifle the sound, and then clenched it tightly under my knotted fingers, rising carefully from my seat. Once again, I checked my perimeter, then, crouching over the table, I pulled back my arm and chucked the wad of paper as hard as I could in his direction.

I jumped back in my seat just as it struck him in the shoulder-- I couldn't imagine how pathetically annoying it would feel, and he didn't let me down for a second, frowning irritably as he turned to inspect what had brushed him.

"Zane!" I hissed, not bothering to check for viewers this time.

He blinked, thinking he had heard his name, and then looked directly at me. His eyes widened.

I waved my hand madly in his direction, my expression stressed.

'Come here!' I mouthed.

He lifted an eyebrow, incredulous.

'What?' was his silent reply.

'Come!' I persisted, my wrist about to snap.

He rolled his eyes, exasperated, but I had him snared--- there was no way he'd choose those lame books over my company, no matter how obnoxious. I was right: the obvious preference showed on his face as he crept from the shelves, checking around him before slipping swiftly into the chair in front of me.

I grinned.

"What's up?" I whispered enthusiastically.

He shook his head.

"What do you want?" he hissed.

"Look at this!" I spoke as quietly as I could and lifted my assignment like a wall between our ducked faces. He slapped it away, still looking baffled.

"So what?"

"So it's torture, that's what!" I smirked, only to be returned with his confused glare.

"And a second of relief is worth getting us both screwed, then?" he whispered back.

I 'agh!'ed him in incredulity, grinning, as softly as my voice would allow it.

"You were the one buying us drinks in the middle of the hallway!"

He rolled his eyes again, setting his chin on his folded hands.

"Whatever."

"So what are _you_ doing?" I whispered, lowering my own chin to his level.

He shot me a bored look.

"I was sent to do make-up work."

"And?"

"And do you have any gum?"

I sighed, scowling. He opened his hands innocently, shrugging. "Conversation tax."

I rolled my eyes, reaching into my back pocket.

"I have spearmint and orange splash."

"Spearmint, for the love of everything green."

Heckled, I brought the two packs out onto the table, lowering my head back into my book, and punched out a tablet of gum with my thumb. (Gum, thumb, haha...) I checked over my shoulder before placing it into his opened palm, hurrying to secure the packets back where they went, and watched him toss it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully and watching me work.

I folded my arms under my chin, and returned his stoic stare with one of suspicion.

"So," I whispered. "Have your scrapes healed?"

He only chewed for a moment longer, then shrugged his eyebrows indifferently.

"More than not," he mumbled.

"How did they happen?"

He rolled his eyes _very_ dramatically. Any famous actor would be proud of him.

"What?" I didn't know what was so hard about just telling me.

"You're way too persistent!" he hissed in response.

I chuckled.

"Thank you, I take it as a compliment. In most cases, anyway."

"Consider this the exception."

"Come on, now, ZaZa, what's so hard with just telling me?"

He glowered. I bit my lip.

"Right. Don't like the nickname. Got it."

"Too late now."

"I'm sorry!"

"Why do you always---"

"Crud! Shhh!"

I had noticed a flicker of movement off to the side of our table: a library worker, a woman with bouncy blond hair and thick black glasses, was grabbing a last minute scrap of paper before turning to move about and inspect the class's progress.

"Nice," Zane muttered scathingly.

I jumped across the table, thrusting my fingers into his hair and shoving him down with all my might--- he grunted in surprise, but not loud enough to rouse the worker's attention, until at last I got him completely under the table.

"Kade!" he hissed.

"Shush!" I breathed back. I groped with my feet, a little too anxiously, and kicked something, hard.

"_Ow_!"

"Sorry!" I ducked under the table for a minute to catch a glimpse of him--- he was on his knees, bent forward in the limited space, furiously rubbing the side of his his head.

"Are you okay?" I asked quickly, genuinely.

"Fine," he growled, still rubbing fiercely at his bangs.

I sat up straight, trying to look as casual as possible, and began scribbling randomly at my paper. I heard her pestering the sleeping boys; they groaned and grunted in return, enduring her motherly nags. I braced myself, listening to her steps as they neared me.

"Kade Waters?" she said, glancing at my binder.

"Yes, ma'am," I said with unnecessary haste.

She eyed me, askance, and then gently moved my hands that were so discreetly hiding the lack of progress on my paper.

"Hm..." she marked something on her paper, eyeing my with a disapproving frown.

"Do we need to focus a little more?" she said sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied earnestly.

She raised her eyebrows, and I was tempted to cast a bet in her face. But she turned around, adjusting her glasses, moving on.

I shifted my feet nervously.

"Zane?" I whispered.

"What do you have written on your shoe?"

I ducked my head down, hair falling around my face. Brushing it impatiently away, I looked at the sharpie marks on the sides of my Airwalks.

"Oh--" I lifted my foot onto my lap, whacking him in the nose with my toe in the process.

"Ow!" He clutched his face this time.

"Sorry!" I said gently, reaching over immediately to touch his hands--- he peered at me from his fingers and I drew back quickly, embarrassed. Fumbling for words, I glanced at the writing on my shoe. I instantly blushed.

"Erm-- it says... 'Jace'."

He glared in confusion, still rubbing his nose.

"Who's he?"

I wrinkled my own nose skeptically.

"Why do you care?"

He stared at me, his hand falling away from his face.

"I don't," he said roughly. I frowned.

Mischief entered his eyes, but he didn't smirk.

"It had hearts by it," he said matter-of-factly.

I frowned. This, I hadn't expected-- Next time, I'll be better off stuffing him under my shirt like a basketball.

"Yeah, so?" I snapped, immediately irritated.

He shrugged, his lips tight.

"They look kind of wasted, those shoes. You should get new ones."

My mouth hung open, but I wasn't as appalled as I would have liked to be.

"They're only a couple months old, excuse me!"

"Shhh!" he hissed suddenly, putting a hand up in front of my face.

I swallowed, peeking up from the table to glance around. No one had heard-- if anyone had, they didn't care.

I looked back down at Zane, peeved again.

"Get up here, I'm going to break my neck."

He sighed, turning to crawl, as I straightened in my seat and tried to fix my disarrayed hair, grumbling as I did.

"Doesn't matter what's on my shoe... none of his buisness... doesn't even know who Jace is..."

When he sat down, he was smirking.

---------

At lunch, Holden was eating with the guys from his team, so Simone and I decided to talk jeans. And by that, I don't mean fashion trends.

I lead her slowly down the hall towards my locker. I had brought the original jeans--- _Jace's_ jeans--- back to school. Maybe if he noticed that they were in my locker, any mix-ups would clear up and he would see I was interested. Holden still hadn't given me _my_ jeans back-- he hadn't mentioned them yet, and I hadn't brought them up, so I hadn't expected it. Wow. Lots of _hadn't_'s. Sheesh...

I hadn't (and another!) told Simone my decision on who the jeans were from either, and she had (close one...) no idea about the Holden mix-up, so all she thought was that I was in a waiting period, still investigating. Even though I would still like to tell her about my crush on Jace, there was always a part of me that was too shy. Oh, well-- I'd get my confidence when this whole jeans buisness was resolved.

We came up to my locker-- a few girls were scattered along the opposite wall, which was _also_ lined with lockers. One was maybe a few inches shorter than me, but she didn't look any younger-- Her chocolate brown hair was pulled up in a sloppy pony-tail at the top of her head, lots of styled bangs hanging around her eyes and ears, which sported large yellow loops for earrings. Her eyes were bright and there was a sort of energy about her that I knew I'd never be able to keep up with. A little too perky, I guess.

With her, a pale girl about my height, with a blush in her cheeks and this shy, soft look about her. Her long brown hair was braided down her back-- She wore plain clothing, some of it out of fashion, while the other girl's clothing was trademark and trendy. They talked quietly to eachother, both exhibiting different levels of excitement, as far as their different personalities went.

Simone and I had to turn away from them to face our lockers-- as we did, the first girl turned and beamed at us with teeth decorated in deep green braces that matched her olive eyes.

"Hey, Simone!" she said loudly, cheerfully. I blinked while in the path of her zest.

Simone turned to grin in return.

"Hey, Jennifer! How are you?"

"Gooood," she said in the usual teenage-girl's slurry voice, giggling. (It was more like _guuuuhd_.) Color faintly touched her cheeks.

"He has this lunch!" she said hushly, as if she were passing a naughty secret. "We're waiting for him, his locker is right there!"

She pointed to a locker door a few down from mine-- I wasn't really paying attention, I was working on my combo.

I heard Simone chuckle.

"Okay, Jen. Whatever."

"He looks _so cute_ today!" Jennifer whined, sounding heartbroken and thrilled at the same time.

"Well, make sure you let me know when he comes by," Simone said, as if she had rehearsed this several times, and turned to glance at me while rolling her eyes, still smiling softly.

"Who are they talking about?" I asked, chuckling myself.

"No idea," Simone said dully, smirking. "That's Jennifer for you. She's always talking about 'he'. Never a name-- just 'he'."

"Does she _know_ his name?"

Simone shrugged.

"Dunno. She knows everyone in the school-- of all people, she should know the name of the guy she's obsessed with."

It was sounding good-- I wasn't going to miss this, either.

I finally opened the locker door, reaching in to start working at the knot in the plastic bag. She watched me, curious.

There was a gasp, and we both glanced over our shoulders to see Jennifer and the other girl with their heads together, giggling fiercely. The second, pale girl was as red as a tomato. I resisted a laugh.

(Hm, I wonder what would happen if Jace walked by right about now...)

Shut up.

"Hi, Zane!" Jennifer called much too excitedly, waving her hand over her head.

I felt my lips part in shock-- behind me, Simone chuckled.

"Well, what do you know," she said under her breath, amused. "She does know his name."

I ducked behind my locker door, peering around the side to watch the scene. Simone glanced at me, confused, before turning and pretending to fiddle with her phone, when really, I knew she was listening just as intently as I was.

From where I stood, pretty much hidden, I saw him walking towards us, a thin planner and a few loose papers under his arm. His head was lowered, his other hand hooked to his jean pocket by his thumb. He looked up cautiously at the squealing sound of his name, and I suddenly could tell this was the last place he wanted to be. He gave Jennifer and the other girl one good look before lowering his head again and continuing his long treck to his locker.

"Hey, Jennifer," Zane said quietly, turning to enter his combo.

Jennifer giggled, grabbing the second girl around the arm.

"C'mon, Sienna!" she whispered as the girl hesitated, still looking like a living, breathing red pepper.

Zane threw his locker door open and looked inside as if stalling for time. Sienna hesitated for a nanosecond longer, and then Jennifer pulled her along as they moved quickly to Zane's side.

"C'mon, Zane," Jennifer said teasingly, grinning again, "you know you have to call me Jen!"

She leaned against the locker beside his, and even though I couldn't see her face, I could only imagine how flirtatious this gal could get.

Zane shot her a glance before turning back to open his locker. His face remained stoic as stone, his eyes unreadable.

"Right," he said softly. "Sorry, Jen."

"Oh, don't worry about it," she said almost too quickly, like every word he said was a line she had written for him. Sienna was nestled somewhere behind her, and from what I could see of her face, she was gazing up at Zane in a sort of desperation. I was confused--- if Jen was going to hog him like this, as unsuccessful as she was, why had she dragged poor little Sienna into it too?

She giggled again, moving close to his side to watch him load his things into his locker.

"So what's your next period?"

"Well, I step inside and my shoes get singed," he replied gently, unenthusiastically.

She burst into pleasant laughter, though it was a little exaggerated by the flirting component.

And Zane looked right past her and met my eye.

My brow shot up in surprise and he held my gaze for a second longer. Something sharpened behind his gaze, like boredom morphing into determination, and then he turned, leaning against his locker and smirking down on Jennifer.

Something squirmed in my gut and I tried to beat it down, totally baffled as to how and why it was there in the first place.

"Okay, okay, what class is this?" Jennifer laughed, setting her hand on Zane's shoulder.

I felt it again--- like an earwig or something crawling around in my gut. I grimaced.

Zane shook his head, looking down at his pockets.

"You don't have any classes with Satan, do you?"

Jennifer laughed again, leaning a little into his shoulder for support.

What a floozy.

"Oh, Zane," Jennifer groaned when she had overcome her mirth, regret sculpting her perky face, "it's too bad we don't have any classes together this year."

He sighed, nodding.

"Yeah, too bad."

Heh. Denial.

"So will you come say bye to me after school?" she prodded, grinning. Her fingers traced loving circles on the edge of his sweater collar. "It's Friday, after all--- I won't see you for the whole weekend!"

Oh, no, what a tragedy!

Zane's lips pulled into the crooked smile again.

"Sure, Jen."

I swear he glanced at me a second time--- it was so fast I almost missed it. Either way, the earwig had invited friends over to party in my gut.

"Is that Zane Ashborne?" Simone whispered briskly, still fidgeting with her phone but keeping a good eye on the conversation.

"Yeah," I mumbled. It was like a bite of sour grapes.

Jennifer was talking again, still clutching Zane's shoulder "discreetly". I really didn't like her-- for some reason or another. She was just too... flirty I guess. I have a problem with flirty... Yeah, definitely something distasteful about her...

I still was having a hard time getting Zane--- it was like he wasn't interested in her and yet something was prompting him to be the nice guy. Like...

Urgh, why does he keep glancing at me, the stud?!

"Well, see yah, Zane," Jennifer giggled, her hand sliding down his arm and drifting away at his elbow. As she stepped away, Sienna hesitated, and Zane's eyes turned to her.

"Bye, Zane," she squeaked, and scrambled back to Jennifer's side, who was waving over her shoulder. Zane just kept smirking in response, a very dry smirk, and as they disappeared reluctantly down the hall, Zane stared in the other direction towards us.

He caught my eye and held it.

"Having fun with your girlfriends, Zane?" I said bitterly. There was no use pretending it had never happened.

He didn't so much as blink. "Why do you care?"

My mouth fell open. He just strode on past.

----------

"Excuse me, ladies."

Simone and I jumped-- we had watched Zane disappear down the end of the hall, almost forgetting anyone else in the school existed.

(Except Jennifer.)

We turned to see a plump woman about fifty paces down the hall. She strode towards us with a stern look in her beady eyes, carrying one of those walkie talkies close to her mouth like she would release the F.B.I. on us at any given moment. She was an administrator, judging by the way she walked. They always walk like they rule the place...

"This end of the hall is off-limits during lunch hours!" she called down to us, still approaching.

I bit my lip-- my locker was shut, I wouldn't have time to reopen it, and we had to get out of there _right_ then.

"Yes-- sorry, ma'am--" Simone stuttered, stepping up from the wall.

I glanced around frantically-- Jace's (or so I _assumed_ Jace's) jeans were still in my hands, like evidence for some bloody crime. I watched the administrator grow closer-- she'd definitely confiscate them. People like her had a thing for that kind of stuff, you know? Like a drug addiction. _Must... confiscate... any... student-owned... object..._

I was relieved to find one random locker still open--- moving quickly but trying to hide it, I threw the jeans inside and slammed the door shut just as the woman was nearing us.

"Do you know the rules, ladies?" she asked naggingly.

"Yes-- Sorry--"

Simone grabbed my elbow and lead me quickly past the woman's arm, who's sharp gaze was following our backs like a disease.

When we had cleared harm's way, Simone bent to say in my ear, "Why were you mad at Zane Ashborne?"

I flinched, contorting my face in confusion. Really, why had I been so mad? No, I hadn't been mad... What...?

It was there, somewhere, on the tip of my tongue...

"That 'j' word," I said blankly, still blinking my thoughts together.

"Huh?"

(Well, I'd always known Simone was a good little child, but I didn't think she wouldn't know what jealousy was...)

SHUSH! IT'S THE _'J' WORD_!

(Whatever...)

-----------

My name is Jennifer.

And today after school, I FOUND A BOY'S JEANS IN MY LOCKER!

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**A/N**: dun dun dun! sorry about the delay... busy day yesterday... school's starting... sniff... I'LL _TRY_ TO UPDATE FREQUENTLY!! sob


	10. Chapter 10: Unbuckled

10: UNBUCKLED

**A/N**: Less than a month (little less, we fangirls tend to exaggerate... hehe...) until Season 3 is out!! whoooooo!! bring on da fiah!! Hope you like this chapter, it's... hehe... interesting. Zutara forever!

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And now, introducing for perhaps the thousandth time since page one, yet another lame and repetitive opening by Kade Waters!

Okay, okay.

That day after school-- (applause) Shut up!-- Holden invited Simone and I over to his place to do homework. It was welcomed, I promise, just annoying to have to keep informing Seth to leave without me. Though, there was a part of me that was actually anticipating the conference-- what crazy and absurd circus act today, big bro? Or were you just being the usual teenager again...?

There was no way of knowing except going to see for myself, and since I couldn't just leave without letting him know, I guess, whether entertaining or not, I was going to Seth's locker.

As I approached, I could already hear the laughter of he and his buddies--- great. This was going to be good. I just hoped it wouldn't be too obnoxious, like the whole slushy incident. It was amazing how Seth had just moved in and yet has already found other goons so much like him to just be an idiot with... I was afwaid poor wittow Sethy wouldn't get to shaow his tips of being a troubomako he whote himsewf... I used to think he would marry that manual.

And do you, Seth Waters, take this manual of disaster to be your lawful wedded survival guide, for as long as you both shall wallow in immaturity?

I pronounce you Trouble and Maker. You may wreak havoc.

Today, he was leaning against his locker door with three other guys about his height, all with assorting colors and cleanliness of hair-- I was proud to say Seth's bowlish-mohawk cut looked decent next to their sixties-skater bangs. They all peered over his shoulder at a _Teen Rev _magazine he held propped on his palms-- They were intent and amused apparently at a certain picture. As I approached, Seth noticed my feet and glanced up to smirk at me.

"Hey, Kade, check it out."

He flipped the magazine over so I could see it, bringing blinks from his buddies. I saw a familiar picture of a motorcycle athlete in the middle of a back flip about twenty feet in the air, arms over his head like he was on a roller coaster... freakin' maniac. It was slightly different from the last picture-- I could tell it was "hot off the press". Against black backdrop, an article in white print took up two pages and a large gold title balanced across the top. It read: _Rookie or Regal? _

"What's this?" I asked, uninterested.

Seth grinned.

"This kid here is going to the _national champions_."

Now I remembered.

"Yeah, you've told me. Don't you know anything else about him? His name, for example?"  
Seth shrugged.

"Do I looked like the kind of person who reads all those tiny, little words? And anyway, what else matters? The competition's gonna be on at nine next week-- Wednesday, I think. You wanna watch it with us?"  
I snorted. "No. Listen, Seth, I'm gonna go home with some friends today--"

"Simone?" His face brightened.

"Yes and no," I said slowly. "Simone and I are going to someone else's house-- Holden, have I told you his name? Anyway, he lives a few doors down from us, so--"  
"Go nuts."

I smirked, exhaling. It was so pleasing when Seth couldn't care less about what I was doing-- for once.

I met back up with Simone and Holden and we set off.

---------

It was a sunny day-- spring had officially broken it's shell and now every single tree was bursting with pink and white blossoms. There was a nice cloud cover, so the sunlight bled through like liquid gold. It was more of a haze over the air than light-- like twilight, only yellow instead of blue. It was beautiful-- the jet black streets and flourishing emerald lawns went perfect with the picture, adding a bolder component.

"Wow---" Simone breathed, noticing it too. "What a beautiful afternoon! I'm so excited for spring, are you?"  
"Definitely," I replied. "I've never seen so many blossoms in one place..."

"One step closer to football season," Holden said, shrugging. His grin was like the sunny haze. "Works for me."

"And the World Cup!" Simone exclaimed, turning to Holden with an ecstatic beam. "In just two weeks!"  
"Whoo!" They high-fived, and despite my exclusion, I couldn't help feeling warmed. How long had these two been friends? They were so easily cheered... especially Holden. Heck, how many times had I betrayed him just this week? And yet here he was, like some emblem of light, and here I was, just servings drinks to the earwigs in my gut, always seeing that bimbo Jennifer's flirtatious smile, Zane's purposefully cool response...

DARN THE WORLD AND THE CUTE BOYS WITHIN IT! DARN YOU, ZANE, I'LL GOUGE YOUR EYES OUT IF YOU GLANCE AT ME ONE MORE TIME!

As we started up the end of the street, I thought I heard the revving of an engine-- definitely not a car engine... And it was coming from behind the school.

"Guys---" I held out my arm to silence their soccer chat. "Do you hear that?"  
The last of their words faded and they listened too. The sound of the engine was distinct now, like a really high tech lawn mower having fun with it's ignition.

"Yeah, but why..." Simone frowned in confusion-- yeah, it _was_ coming from behind the school...

"It sounds like a---" but Holden stopped, for his words were no longer necessary, folks.

From behind the school came a motorcycle, jet black-- it was obviously high class: Holden's whistle and Simone's awed inhale were helpful, but even a mechanical dummy like myself could see it's shimmering edges and small, tight stature weren't purchased from a yard sale. I liked the size-- not outrageous, like the tattooed thugs' that ride in packs down the highways. It was just big enough for two people, no unnecessary bulk. It had a agile, sporty look. A sports-cycle!

But then I noticed the driver. And the earwigs blew a wine bottle's cap against the walls of my stomach, dancing and spilling fizzing grape soda all over my gut.

Zane Ashborne fluently steered the motorcycle from the school grounds, bringing around a few turned heads, and once on the road, he glanced over at us. I blinked, feeling this twinge in my stomach like he were looking right at me-- he was about fifty yards to our right, I couldn't make out his expression, but that all came to a close when he steered his bike right towards us, clearly by intention.

We could all just stand and watch-- it was like we had been placed on the earth to watch him drive up in front of us at this very moment, some kind of destiny thing. I couldn't really look at Simone and Holden--- (I could only guess what they're faces were portraying)--- because the Zane on the bike was a Zane I'd definitely never seen before.

He left the engine to pucker dead, right in the gutter about ten paces before us. Letting the bike lean, he set his left foot on the curb to support it, and twisted his waist to look directly at me.

Hey, wait. It gets better.

Of course I was annoyed when I saw him now, irritated, because of his behavior at lunch. I'd darned him already!

But I was also... stunned.

He looked--

--and it pains me to say this--

(Tick, tock...)

Okay, okay, he looked hot! Happy?!

Then, at the time, I wanted to deny it, make it not true, but now, I've humbled to the fact that he was a picture of attraction. Allow me to elaborate.

He wore his usual jeans, the same black shoes, ripped and ragged like always.

However...

He was not wearing his sweater. I didn't blame him, really, it was at least seventy-eight degrees, maybe eighty. But... I was surprised for other reasons, too.

(And I was other things I'm too chicken to admit...)

Finally, we hear some sense from you pixies.

(I meant to annoy you.)

I'd seen the collar of his white shirt earlier that day, and had been surprised. For some reason, he hadn't seemed like the white-shirt guy.

Now, with his sweater gone, every inch of white exposed, it was like... peanut butter and jam. Just meant for eachother, you know?

Okay, okay, crappy analogy.

(In that analogy, did you mean 'peanut butter and jam' as in, Zane and the white shirt went well together, or were you leaning towards the 'yummy' component?)

Must we keep at this our whole lives?

(I'm afraid that's what I'm here for.)

ANYWAY...!

I could tell he was an active child the instant I saw his chest and arms for what they were. The shirt was tight, nigh sleeveless, outlining the matured muscles of his neck, shoulders, breast, etc... You can go on forever with sixteen-year-old boys like this. After following the bulk of his arms, I noticed his hands were gloved in tight leather, like an accessory you would purchase alongside the bike itself. I noticed something else on his gloves--- was that metal on his knuckles?

So now, to make my ignorance of this kid even more profound, I realized his hair was a good three inches longer than I'd ever noticed or anticipated. Here, free of any sweater collars or jumbled fabric of hoods, it fluttered freely around his neck and ears, over his brow, into his eyes: A black mane so totally unstyled and unkempt yet so... perfect, I guess, in that sense. It suited him, like, absolutely.

When I finally met his eyes, there was something behind them, BOTH of them, that almost, _almost _made me blush, just in embarrassment, exposure. The dazed afternoon glow brought out the butterscotch in his irises, softened them, until there wasn't the usual coarseness in them like their usually was. They were a little lighter, a little deeper... like the sky. That's it--- they were like a golden sky.

Strange, I know, just... descriptive.

What startled me the most (well, maybe not...) was that he seemed totally unaware of any of this. He had no idea he had attained an impressive level of attractiveness, had no idea Simone's mouth was hanging open like she'd never seen a boy before. Mine probably was too.

He blinked modestly, adjusting the fingers on his gloves.

"Hi, Kade," he said quietly, not trying to be smooth, not trying to be a hunk, just... being it.

"Hey, Z-ane," I forced through the barrier over my voice. It was like shoving a block of granite aside.

His voice brought back memories: I remembered he'd been a jerk at lunch, flirting with that airhead _Jen, _Miss Brace Face, Little Lady of Zanesville...

(Where do you get all these sappy insults?)

I have a rich supply of kookiness in the back of my mind...

(Ha, ha.)

He lowered his chin slightly, resting a fist on the seat between his legs. No grimace, no frown, his face was just... plain.

(Plain and great with it...)

I beg of you. I'm on my knees. On my _face. _You _cannot_ do this to me.

(When you put it that way... I accept taxes and worship.)  
DARN IT, PIXIE, I'LL DESTROY YOU!

"Do you..." Zane wet his lips, looking back up at me. His brow was slanted upward against the breeze, bringing a fleeting, teensy tiny plea into his eyes.

"I was wondering if you'd want a ride home?" he said softly.

I felt my face drain, then flush. It was the weirdest sensation, honestly. I stole a glance at Simone--- she was staring at me like Zane was a secret I'd been keeping from the world.

"I---" I looked back at him, with my fabulous and attractive dead fish face again... jeez...

"I, um---" I tired to blink sense into my head, accentuating with my hands, glad I wasn't carrying anything.

"W-well, I--- C'mon, Zane, is it safe?"  
I managed my bratty voice. Yeah, that would do good in this situation. Don't appear flattered, _don't_ appear flattered...

He shrugged, nodding, touching the space of leather seat behind him.

"I'd trust him," Simone muttered, her gape now gone, and nothing but pure appeal shaping her features.

I still blinked and flapped my mouth like a malfunctioning robot, slowly making my way towards the bike. Clueless, totally stupid, I ran a fleeting inspection over it's sleek, black surface, the cleaned wheels, the smooth leather seat...

The faintest hint of a smirk was tugging at Zane's lips when I looked back at him.

"Are you a mechanical expert?" he asked tenderly. He was almost whispering...

The humor caught me off guard. Was this Zane?

"Anything but," I said, shaking my head, looking back down at the bike. He was reading my worry like a book--- well, what was I supposed to do? I'd always been a little nervous on motorcycles and wave runners and stuff like that... Not my thing!

He noticed, all too well.

"It'll be fine," he assured me quietly. "I don't get tickets-- and I have a license."  
"I think the bike told us that," I said vaguely, still inspecting it brainlessly.

"Do your friends mind?" he asked.

I noticed there wasn't any hint of dislike in his voice-- just respectful observation. I had to give the kid that much: he knew when to be the grump and when to be Mr. Mature.

I looked at Holden and Simone, stammering again---

"Urh, well, I was just---"  
"It's fine with us," Simone said quickly, nodding. There was something in her eyes... Something I didn't like, not one bit.

Holden didn't say anything. Neither did I, nor Zane. In the unsure silence, Simone pushed a little harder.

"It's fine, Kade, we'll meet you at Holden's house."

She was smiling now, every inch of it pure intention, slowly reaching back for Holden's sleeve.

"Are---" I shook my head and found the only thing I could do was glare at Zane.

"I didn't' say I'd go with you!" I snapped, just in the mood to be irritable.

He didn't buy it-- he just stared at me, the breeze carrying his hair around his face. My stomach jumped and I scowled.

"Just an offer," he said, shrugging, but he wasn't moving, and neither was I.

Then he cocked his head, and gestured with his hand for me to come.

"C'mon, I'm not an idiot on this thing like I am in my car. And I wanted to talk to you, anyway."

This one left me speechless; all I could do was stare at him. When I got my respritory system up and running again, I looked at Simone--- wrong idea.

She was nodding towards Zane, slowly backing up with Holden's sleeve in her grasp.

"We'll see you, Kade!" she said cheerfully, waving.

"Aughm---" I could just stand there as she practically spun Holden around in a peruiette, grabbed his arm to recover his balance, and dragged him across the lawn in the opposite direction.

I wanted to be angry, anything to make Zane feel stupid, but I doubted that would happen.

(Not when he looked the way he did.)

Thank you, now shut up.

I had no choice but to look back at him-- where else was I supposed to look?

He met my gaze innocently, as if it weren't his fault I'd just been abandoned. He gestured the back seat, twisting back to face the handle bars.

"Jump on."

I bit my lip, approaching it cautiously like it were a tiger with a leash around it's neck.

"Do you have a helmet?"  
Zane chuckled.

"That? That's wheelie target practice. Just hold onto me, you'll be fine."  
"Zane!" I lifted my leg awkwardly over the back seat, my heart racing.

"Zane, I don't ride motorcycles everyday!"

"And I do, Kade."  
I huffed at his "reassuring" remark and finally had placed my butt in a comfortable position behind him. I looked up, closer to his back than I thought. The muscles in his shoulders throbbed as he bent down to tickle the key-- the engine snarled in response, ready to kick off.

"Zane---!" I so wasn't ready.

"Ready?"

"No!" I shrieked as he lifted his leg from the curb and we shot off down the street like a bullet from a gun.

I lunged forward without thinking, throwing my arms around his chest and clutching him with all my strength. My eyes were drawn down to the road, watching it zoom beneath us. The wind blew harder and harder at my hair, threatening to peel me from Zane's back and throw me off into the street. We hit a curb--- he turned--- I nearly had my ear to the asphalt---

"ZANE!" I screamed, surprised I hadn't broken his ribs yet.

I heard him chuckle--- my lips were at his neck: I heard every little sound he made.

"Just making sure you're holding on," he replied leniently, and we slowed noticeably; the roar of the engine calmed and I sighed, traumatized, pressing the side of my head harder and harder into the firm muscles of his back.

"This is _insane_!" I yelped into his shirt.

"What's insane?" he said back. There was a smirk in his voice. "We're just gliding. Stop watching the road--- you'll feel better."  
I gulped, and lifted my head slightly, my whole body still cemented to his. I was afraid the smallest movement would rupture my balance and I would be ripped from the seat...

The trees passed us at a peaceful pace, the speed they would if I were sitting in Seth's car right that moment. I was just looking out the passenger window. I stared in awe at the dramatic difference: the street, and then the trees on the sides of the road... He was right, as much as I didn't want to admit it.

The trees were like umbrellas shielding the world from view: pink and white blossoms were walls at our sides, wreaths hung to welcome us. Every twenty feet or so, a gap would open in the clouds overhead, and a pillar of brilliant sunlight would sparkle down over us. We blinked in and out of the light, in and out of the disruption of trees... The engine was hardly present-- just a purr against the picture of our travel.

As the seconds crawled on, I realized how utterly plastered I was to Zane's back. Blushing, I loosened my arms, sliding back a bit, so my grasp on his waist was modest instead of desperate.

Another handful of seconds hummed by, and then I leaned my chin into his neck and spoke in his ear.

"By the way, I have a bone to pick with you," I grumbled.

"And what's that?"

We took a turn-- I inhaled, unprepared, my grip instantly tightening around his chest. He simpered in the rearview mirror and looked back out at the road.

"Do you even know where I live?" I said into his hair, baffled. It wasn't the bone I had originally planned to pick, but it was a bone now.

"I'll figure it out," he replied. "Right now, I'm sort of meandering."  
"Meandering?" I repeated, nigh horrified. "What if we get lost?"  
"We won't get lost," he said soothingly. "I've lived in this city all my life. Relax."  
"Why would you offer me a ride if you don't know where I live?" I snarled.

"Because I'd have you with me," he responded, and I met his eyes in the mirror again. The smirk was gone-- there was something new there.

"Did you mention a bone?" he said after releasing my gaze.

I blinked, remembering.

"Right," I said bitterly. "What was that at lunch? Who's that Jennifer girl, anyway?"

He sighed, muscles rippling down his back. My fingertips tingled.

"I don't know her that well."  
"Uh, huh. Sure."  
"I think she wants to go out with me or something."  
I laughed wickedly.

"Really! Hm, you're inept."

"Look, it's not like I'm interested---"  
"You're not?" Why the heck did my stomach just shoot upward just now?

Zane hesitated. "I've... well, actually, I knew her when I was a freshman, and I was sort of into her then, I guess..."  
"Oh."

"Oh?"  
"So, are you now?"

"Didn't I just say I wasn't?"  
"Well, one can never really know with you." I sighed and frowned. "But still, she's a _little_ obsessed you, at least from what I can see; I just thought guys appreciated that kind of stuff."  
"You sound like you _want_ me to ask her out," he said slyly.

I swallowed. "I don't _want_ you to ask her out, I just... ah, forget it."  
"So do you hate her, or what?"  
"I never said that."  
"Sure you didn't."  
"I didn't! I just think she's a little insane, that's all."  
He chuckled. "I don't think you need to worry about her anymore. She's got plenty of other boys to choose from."  
"Good for her," I said dryly, and then added a little timidly, "and, I never really was _worrying_ about her. I mean, _you_ and her, that is."  
Zane just shrugged.

"Did you think I was?" I demanded a moment later.

"You sounded pretty ticked when you brought her up," he said neutrally.  
"It was just because you kept looking at me like a moron," I said with instant sourness. "I couldn't figure out if you were just trying to bug the crap out of me or if you were trying to get a message across."  
"I'd stick with the first," he said, and smiled wickedly. I just rolled my eyes.

"Whatever you say. As long as I don't have to watch her groping you with those long nails again, I'm cool."  
"Groping?" He scowled. "That's being a little extreme, don't you think?"  
"Ever heard of exaggerating? And _I_ think she was just on layer one," I added flatly. "But don't ponder on it, okay? For my sake."  
"Trust me," he sighed, "I'm not about to. She's nice, just a little... not for me."

I sighed too, and felt content to set my chin in his back and watch the trees again.  
A few minutes passed, and my eyes fell just in time to catch a glint of silver in the rearview mirror. I looked down--

His gloves... Now I saw them: metal pads were fastened to their backs, like armor, flashing as we passed through the occasional veils of sunlight.

"What are those for?" I asked.

He glanced down at them.

"Oh, those? No reason."

I blinked.  
"They're just fashion?"

"Well... not exactly. Have you ever seen the anime 'Naruto'?"  
I shook my head, my nose gliding through his fluttering hair.

"No, what's that?"

"It's a Japanese cartoon," he said vaguely. "My sister watches it."

"Oh, yeah? Aeva watches cartoons?"  
He chuckled.

"Ironic imagery, I know."

"No, just... humbling. For her, anyway."  
He smirked at me in the mirror.

"She's into the Japanese stuff. Anyway, the metal is a costume accessory-- one character wears them on his hands like this."  
"What's his name?"  
"Don't know--- I don't watch it. She just fashioned them for me, as a gift, one day when..."  
It was like he'd swallowed wrong-- he just stopped, lowering his gaze and focusing on the road.

I waited, but when nothing came, I sighed smally.

"Well, they go nice-- with the bike."  
"Do they?"  
"Where'd you get it? You have a bike _and_ a car?"

He shrugged. We made another turn-- I clutched him a little closer.

"You must know who my dad is," he said a tad cautiously.  
I resisted calling him by his nickname.

"The owner of the company that's dominating California?"  
He seemed to appreciate my restraint. I was glad I had taken the effort.

"Yeah... I guess you could say he's a little wealthy," he replied. "I... don't live with him anymore, but I have little inheritances here and there."

"You don't live with your dad? Do you live with your mom?"

His tone made me regret asking.

"My uncle," he said quietly. Heavily.

I blinked, ashamed, and lowered my face into his shoulder, focusing on the trees passing us.  
"Kade?" he said gently after a moment.

"Hmm?"  
I was familiarizing myself with his scent: from his shirt, I smelled a load of laundry fresh from the dryer. From the skin on his neck, the crisp air of a beach. And his hair... a regular shampoo smell. It went well with the scenery--- I thought I was smelling the blossoms at times.

He sighed again, shuddering under my arms.

"Do you mind loosening your grip a little?" he asked, and it was almost as if that were not the thing he wanted to say at first.

It sure as heck embarrassed me anyway.

"Oh, right--- sorry---"

I was clutching him now with full vigor. I instantly relaxed my arms, reddening slightly, trying to hide behind the bulk of his shoulders so he wouldn't see my face in the rearview.

I felt his exhale, and he seemed to glide through my arms like the pieces of a puzzle: everything fit. Even my head seemed to nestle just right in the dip between his shoulder blades.

"Sorry," he said. "I know you're nervous."

"No, no-- not anymore," I said back, turning my head to watch the other side of the street.

"Hey, Kade?"  
"Yeah?"  
"What was my score on Kohlan's quiz?"

I blinked, not expecting this. But then, it all came back to me.

"Oh--- uh... an eighty-seven."

"Percent?"  
"Yeah. Is that bad?"  
"That's great," he said, but he sounded sad. "Thanks."  
"What's wrong?" It was too easy to detect: he was so emotional for a man.

(Oh no, don't start your whole feminist rant...)

I won't, I won't, relax...

He shook his head.

"I'm just cutting it close these days," he said.  
And he lifted one gloved hand from the handles to touch the still healing scrape on the belly of his forearm.

"Pretty close."

---------

Four more turns passed us by; I could very well tell now that he wasn't going in any distinct direction. And slowly my fear of that began to fade: until I had to give him my address, it was nice when we didn't talk. It gave me chances to gather the bits of myself that had spilled out on the road during the first five seconds of our ride.

But beneath my arms, Zane was getting more and more tense. I was starting to wonder when he'd rip open and turn into the Hulk. It was a strange effect: what was wrong?

"Zane?"

He scowled in the rearview.

"Who's Jace?" he asked suddenly.

I blinked, and despite my confusion I blushed furiously.

"N-no one," I managed, fumbling words. "I--- He's just a friend of mine, that's all..."

"Describe him."  
My brow knitted--- his tone was so firm, so harsh.

"What's up?" I asked.  
"Just describe him, Kade. Who's Jace?"  
"I don't see what the huge deal is," I said a little more firmly, trying to step above his change in attitude.

"Kade, tell me." It was an order.

"Why do you _care_?" I asked again.

"Because I know one Jace," he said venomously, "and he belongs in juvi."

I felt my stomach flip flop-- I looked away from the mirror, glaring. It had been an all right ride, it really had; maybe my uneasiness around motorcycles was going to go away.

And now he had to pull out the old Oscar the Grouch act. What was wrong with this kid?

"That's kind of... biast, don't you think?" I said.

"No, it's not," he said coldly. "It's the unwritten law."

And then, boom. There I went, some kind of temper toy. He had such the right pitch, such the right zap, to get me angry.

"You think that about everyone," I grumbled thoughtlessly. "You're like that yourself."

It was stupid, I know. Well, I know _now_ , anyway. Then, I was just searching for a way to get my annoyance out, my frustration.

And he was there with a reply.

The engine revved like a lion in shock, roaring suddenly against my ears--- I gasped, clinging desperately to Zane's back as he spun the bike around in the middle of the street--- I was thrown back and thenforward and against him, hard--- he brought the bike to a jerking halt in the gutter beside the sidewalk.

We sat there for a moment-- I was still trying to breathe, gather myself again. He was silent too, his back throbbing under my arms. When I finally could speak again...

"What was _that_?" I demanded, furious, terrorized.

"I think _everyone_ belongs in juvi?" he said-- his voice was like ice, suddenly so rough it was sharp.

"_I_ belong in juvi?" he continued, in a controlled, angry incredulity.  
I suddenly regretted ever talking. I bit my lip, feeling my courage sink down farther than my gut. There was an obvious answer--- whether I still felt angry or not, I'd been in the wrong. I sighed.

"I'm sorry--- I didn't mean that."

Well, the wrong wasn't entirely mine. It was a little rash of him to just attack me with this demanding, angry tone; and the whole jerking with the bike had been totally unecessary. I'd make sure I got that apology before he could say much more.  
He sighed too. We sat there for a moment longer, and finally he sat back with a groan, raising his arms to run his fingers through his hair. He held his head back for a moment, then let his wrists fall lifelessly into his lap.

"Augh, I'm sorry, Kade. There's just some things I get pissed about really quickly."  
"Yeah. I noticed."  
"I hope I haven't destroyed your opinion of motorcycles forever now," he said a little humorously.

I smiled halfheartedly. "I don't think so."  
"I just..." He extended a hand and ran his thumb over his rearview mirror, staring into it thoughtfully.

"I can control myself about this, really."  
"What's _this_?"  
"Well... it's kind of a long story. But it's a deep one."  
"I think we have time..." Though doubt was sprinkled in and out of my very words.

"Nah." He huffed a brisk sigh and moved his fingers back to the key. "You don't need it. Sorry again."

"It's okay."

Slowly I repositioned by arms around his waist, scooting a little closer to him so I could grasp my opposite wrists, and felt the bike tremble beneath us as he tickled the key. He turned to glance over his shoulder as we pulled out and my nose touched his cheek--- I pulled back, painfully aware, and hid my face in embarassment.

We backed out cleanly from the gutter and soon were cruising again down the road--- he was moving a tad faster, that I noticed. I guess he still had energy to burn.

A corner came up and I closed my eyes as he accelerated for a moment, and then settled back into a coasting pace. Minutes passed... we made three more turns... I opened my eyes, and he was watching me in the rearview mirror.

"What's with you and Jennifer?" he asked quietly.

I was surprised, and I think I extracted a hint of humor in his voice. Was he this quick to switch gears? I'd never be able to talk to this guy for longer than an hour-- it was like talking to a ventriloquist: two sides of the same person.

But I smiled.

"I thought we'd closed that discussion."  
"Yeah, but I'm still a little curious. I never got a straight answer. Do you hate her?"  
"Hate is a strong word, Zane," I said, and rolled my eyes pelasantly.

"There, see? No straight answer."  
"Don't get your hopes up," I laughed.

"All right." He shrugged. "I could guess."

"You might not want to do that."  
"Why?" I was a challenge. I couldn't refuse it.

"Fine," I said a little sassily. "Guess away."

He'd never get it. Nah.

"Okay. Do you not like the way she dresses?"  
"C'mon, who bases their opinion of someone by how they dress?"  
"Lots of people. It's a start."

"Whatever. Next."  
"Does her laugh annoy you?"  
I smirked. "I think it annoys _you_."

"Not really," he said, shrugging, and my smile was whiped off my face.

Oh crap, I think he noticed.

He eyed my suspiciously, closely, and I tried to hide again behind his shoulder.

"Keep guessing!" I chided.

"Okay... are you jealous of her?"  
The earwigs in my gut blew the top--- there were hundreds of them, all break dancing, getting on their bling. I think I went white.

"Er--- no! No, of course not, why in the world would I be jealous of her? Of _what_ would I be jealous?"  
I swear he smirked-- it was like watching your interrogator consider how to torture information out of you. I almost bit him. Hey, I could have, easily.

"Don't ask me," he said with strained innocence, like he was daring himself to speak.

I was tempted to ask what he had against Jace-- but then some small, little detail of recent events told me I probably shouldn't.

(But, hey, just your crazy opinion, right?)

Tell me about it.

(Uh... did we just agree on something?)

"Z-Zane!" I chirped, my voice cracking, desperate to escape myself---

He blinked, startled.

"What's wrong?"  
"Um---" I searched frantically for an excuse for my outburst...

"Why did you offer to drive me home in the first place?" I spluttered. I didn't know if he'd caught it all.

But he had. His head shifted and he was looking up and out at the road. I had no way of knowing what he was thinking.

Was it better that way?

I wished I could see his face.

"I... No reason, really," he said casually, "just convenience."  
"Oh..."

(Disappointed? Expecting a monologue?)

Not really...

(A pledge of undying love?)

WHAT---?!

(Nothing! I'm just kidding!)

"It's just..." I swallowed, forcing back my own spinning thoughts, "you said you wanted to talk to me about something."  
He sighed.

"Yeah... maybe not."

"Well, what is it?"  
I had to admit, if he didn't get to the point, now that I'd finally remembered, I was going to get a little upset.

He made a quick turn-- my grip around his chest tightened automatically.

"There," he said instantly, as soon as we'd straightened up. "Why do you do that?"  
No annoyance, just curiosity. Intention.

Gulp. I was such the girl! So obvious...

"Well, I've never ridden a motorcycle before, I get nervous!" I said quickly. I wasn't lying--- why else would I go way out of my comfort zone and cling to him like a perisite?

(Define the boundaries of that comfort zone.)

I'll viscerate you.

(As long as it's creative...)

Zane lifted a gloved hand from the handle bars--- I wished he wouldn't--- to brush bangs from his eyes.

"It's confused me," he said at last. "You hate me, then we set things right, agree never to talk to eachother, and then the next minute you're treating me like... a friend, or you like me or--- I don't know, you're just weird!"  
For some remote reason, I didn't take this as an offense. I actually smiled-- it was funny, hearing this all from him, and on the other hand, I expected every word he said. I chuckled, almost laughing.

"You're right. It's messed up, isn't it?"  
"So I don't get an explanation?"  
"Search me."  
"Great..."

He swerved, and I noticed we'd exited all the blossoms-- an occupied road extended out before us.

"So where do you live?" he asked.

"Um..."

I glanced around, not recognizing much...

"Where are we?"  
"Eight blocks from the school--- you recognize that gas station?"  
"Oh... yeah, go left from here--- towards the ocean."  
As we started off, he asked,

"You live at the ocean?"  
"Yeah, on the beach. Well, not right in the water, you know, just up on the grassy ledge. Have you been to the beach?"

Well, duh, who living in California hasn't?  
"Several times," he said. "I get it now... I bet I could find it on my own from here. Are your parents renting it?"  
"My grandmother. She's dealing with some people up in San Francisco."  
"My dad oversaw that deal--- those 'people' work for him."  
I blinked.

"Really?"  
"Don't worry, he's not gonna bulldoze it."

I smiled.

"You think he would?"  
He was quiet, and then when he responded, I could barely hear him.

"He'd do a lot of things. But he knows what respect is. He's not reckless."  
----------

Sure enough, he pulled right up next to Seth's car, just seven minutes later.

From the edge of the grass at the back wall of the house, there was a ten foot drop, and then the white sand spilled out like an invitation to the sea. The hiss of waves was a constant around here; I loved it. The clouds had rearranged, and so more light had mixed with the salty air.

"This it?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Yes," I said, "but go just a few doors down--- I'm meeting my friends at Holden's."  
"Holden Taylors?" Zane asked as he pulled out. "I know his parents."  
"You do?"  
"Thanks to my dad. All from deals and stuff... You could say I know the whole city."  
We coasted four doors down, until he slowed to a stop in the gutter.

"This one?" he asked, nodding towards a red house farther back from the beach than mine, nestled in the tress up the hill.

"I think so..." I looked up at the house, unsure... Well, if Holden's parents were anything like their son, I didn't think I'd get sued for knocking on their door.

"Okay..." Zane sat up from the handle bars, adjusting the fingers of his gloves again. I realized my arms were still secure around his waist. He hadn't said anything; he was expecting me to not be an idiot and get off the bike.

Slowly I released him, careful to avoid his eyes as I got awkwardly off the seat. I felt strange, standing on my feet again. I wobbled a moment. He noticed and smirked.

"You really haven't been on a motorcycle before, have you?"  
I shook my head, finally steadying myself. Once I had, then I could look up at him. He was just as dreamy as before-- some kid I'd never met, sitting there staring at me in almost the same way. Was he thinking that way of me? I _had_ tied my hair up today. Was that so freakish?

I did think it looked kind of weird...

"Well..." I clasped my hands behind my back. Great. Now we entered this stage of the ride.

"Thanks," I said, smiling up at him. "Despite the glitches, it was... pretty fun, actually. Enlightening."  
He chuckled, and this time there wasn't a smirk, just a pure smile. I felt something squirm in my navel--- I'd never seen him really smile before, had I?

"Yeah..." he said, "I guess that 'despite' part passes for all our interactions, doesn't it?"  
I couldn't help laughing. He was so strange... _this_ was so strange.

But I liked it.

"Um..." the last of my laughter died, and I had to look at him again.

"Well, thanks, and... I'll see you Monday, I guess."  
He shrugged.

"We'll see. Next week's kind of jumbled for me."

"What's up?"

He shook his head.

"'Stupid. I'll see you, Kade."  
He leaned down for the handle bars and revved the engine--- I stepped back, suddenly startled.

"Bye, Zane."  
He flashed me a last smirk before pulling out and spinning around, popping up on his back wheel as he did. I gasped.

"Careful!" I shrieked over the engine.

I though I heard him laugh as he took off fast down the street.

----------

Suddenly, a _bang_ erupted from down the beach and I jumped---

Seth marched from the front porch of our house onto the lawn, fuming like a kettle about to burst on the stove.

"Who was that?!" he demanded. "_Who's the punk on the motorcycle?_ Kade, _you tell me right this second_!"

Here we go again.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N**: lol poor Kade. SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?? Zane, a hunk on a motorcycle? Unexpected, I know-- I was just too strongly inspired, I couldn't resist! Thanks for reading! Reviews are cookies!!


	11. Chapter 11: Tagbacks

11: TAGBACKS

**A/N**: serious Zane stuff in here. Hope you like it!!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Let's see, where did I leave off...

Oh, yeah. Captain Protective.

"Seth!" I shouted in response.

Puh. Like I needed to get his attention.

"Who was that boy?" Seth demanded. "Tell me, Kade! Or so help me, I'll hunt him down and---"  
"_Seth_!" I persisted. He blinked.

"Do you want me to talk or not?" I called.

He scowled, folding his arms.

I stared at him for a long moment, and then took a deep breath, building up the trauma, and screamed---

"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

"NO!" Seth went berserk, waving his arms around like his sleeves were on fire, trying to shut me up. His feet went one way and his torso went the other: he was tangled in his own desperation.

"_Shut up_!" he hissed. "Don't you even--- SHUSH!"

I smirked. My work is finished here, folks. Turning on my heel, I set off for the edge of the grass, where I could slip out onto the beach and wait for Simone and Holden. The ocean was always nice company at this time of day. And Seth now knew better than to butt in on what wasn't his buisness.

Zane had long zipped around the corner, the snarl of his engine softly fading until the only sound around me were a few distant squawks of seagulls and the hissing of waves. And, of course, Seth's furious grumbling... But what could he do about it? I tried to estimate where Simone and Holden would be by now. If they were walking, and it was an eleven block distance... and Zane had gotten me here in about ten minutes...

Yeah, like I'm motivated enough to do that kind of math.

I slipped off my shoes, rolling my jeans up to my knees, and carrying my book bag over to the back wall of Gran's house. There, I nestled the bag and the Airwalks in a dip of grass, then made my way to the sand. On the night we'd moved here, Seth and I had improvised ways to slide down the ledge's ten-foot belly so we would land softly on the sand. I used one of my own genius inventions, since I was feeling a little dry towards Seth, and then took to the waves.

The tide was gentler today than usual, the most movement only five feet into the water where the waves ruptured against the rocks, spilling foam up onto the shore. I waded gently into the ripples that would touch the beach first, the ones that sparkled as they slid like film across all the shells and stones in the sand beneath. I felt their smooth surfaces press into the palms of my feet, watching the periwinkle nail polish on my toes glimmer.

Even though I appeared to be rapt on the water, I wasn't even close to interested.

And you can only guess what I was thinking about. _Who_ I was thinking about.

I had to admit, Seth had been right to get on my back. Right now, I realized how much I _didn't know_ Zane. And I didn't mean that by just seeing him today: yes, it had been like seeing him five years in the future, but that was only one component to what a mystery he really was. I assumed he was my friend, a part of me still hated his guts, and another part of me, as of today, was thinking and feeling what a girl on a motorcycle with a boy like him _should_ think and feel... Man, that was a mouthful... But it all boiled down to one thing: they're just experiences, just the skin of it. I realized then that there was so much more to Zane Ashborne than I'd ever thought, probably that I'd never know.

The way he'd talked about his dad... his sister... everything. I thought I'd known it, thought I could relate, somehow get inside his head and see the world how he saw it. I thought I could understand him, make some sense of what a complete stranger he was.

But who was I kidding? How closer was I to him than Seth was? Really, if I thought about it, what was there between he and I that was more than anything between he and Jennifer?  
Nothing, really. It was all the same. There were only a handful of people on the earth who would ever really know Zane, and I was sure, as of that moment, I probably wasn't one of them.

The clouds seemed darker... I tried not to frown, not to sulk.

I'm not disappointed, I'm not disappointed... I'm not...

Somewhere through that, I laid down in the sand, my feet still embraced in the folding waves, and fell asleep.

----------

There was a crowd cheering. A maniacal applause... they were chanting my name. Kade, Kade, Kade, Kade... The roar of an engine snarled behind my ear; the screams only grew louder, the excitement scalding my consciousness like a hot iron... I was soaring through the air---

"Kade... Kade."

It was like in the movies: I had an Elijah Wood moment, with the eyes and the parted lips and the slow pan-up on my startled face...

Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo!

Man. I should take naps more often... 'Makes me feel like a movie star!

"Holy crap, you sleep like the dead," grumbled a familiar voice.

I focused my vision on three shapes blotting out the light of the sky above me. A wreath of faces all clustered above mine. Two were smiling. One was scowling.

The scowl spoke again.

"C'mon, Kade, wake up."

I blinked fog from my eyes: Simone, Holden, and Seth peered down at me like I'd been pied in the face. I grinned.

"What's up?" I moaned. My voice was unfamiliar.

Simone chuckled.

"I don't blame you one bit for falling asleep; the sun's perfect today."  
"Have you been in the water?" I asked groggily.

"Oh, sit up," Seth snapped, pulling me up far too fast by my elbow. The heads parted and I was suddenly on my butt, massaging my spinning head, trying to clear blood from my eyes.

"Thanks," I muttered to Seth. "That did well for my nerves."

When my head and eyes finally cleared, I looked immediately to my right at Simone.

"Sorry about that," I said, smiling sheepishly. "That's what happens when I think too hard: my head shuts down."

Simone and Holden chuckled. Seth still appeared disgruntled.

"C'mon," Holden said, extending a hand. "My house is just up the hill."  
I returned his grasp and he pulled me to my feet with surprising strength; I'd forgotten Holden was an athlete.

We left Seth with folded arms and set off down the beach where a built-in iron staircase would take us back up on the ledge. From there, Holden lead us across the street into a treck up the grassy hill.

His house would have looked like a red spot on a white car had it had been anywhere near the beach. Instead of white cement like the others, it was brown, and made out of a material I wasn't smart enough to recognize. It went well with the bright grass and the handful of trees planted like walls around it.

As we approached the front steps, Simone gently tapped me on the shoulder. When I glanced at her, I thought at first she was having a seizure.

'So what happened?' she mouthed ecstatically.

I lifted my eyebrows, lost.

'What?'

'_Zane Ashborne_!' Her lips were shaping every syllable perfectly like I was deaf. 'On the mo-tor-cy-cle!'

I felt my stomach twist, but shook my head in Holden's direction.

'Later!' Like I was about to burst into girlysyndrome in front of him.

She shaped her features in a desperate plea but I just shook my head again.

'No way! Later!'

But in my world, 'later' really means 'never'.

"I'll warn you guys," Holden said ahead of us, not noticing our silent freak-outs, "my cousin is here. She's... all right, she's just a demonic incarnate, so don't get on her nerves."

Simone smiled curiously.

"How old is she? What's her name?"  
"Tameron. She's thirteen. And..."  
He turned this time, looking at us matter-of-factly over his shoulder.

"She's blind."

Simone put her fingers to her mouth.

"Oh, I'm so sorry..."  
"She was born that way," Holden said, as if surprised we were reacting like the old grannies we were. "And she doesn't give a rat's trash about it."  
I felt pride take me; I was impressed.

"Really? Good for her. That's awesome."  
"How come I've never met her, Holden?" Simone asked. I was wondering that, too. I'd concluded Simone and Holden had been lifelong friends.

"Her family lives in Wyoming. Out in the country, where there aren't so many cars that could crush her. Her parents, my dad's brother and his wife... they're... a little overprotective, I guess."  
I scowled.

"Well, I wouldn't do any different."  
"You haven't met Tameron," Holden reminded me with a small smile. "She's tiny and cute but she has a brain, and a healthy body; she's going to earn her black belt next month."

I almost stopped walking. Simone's jaw dropped to the sidewalk.

"She's a _black belt_?"

Holden smirked, looking away.

"She devotes every speck of her energy to her self defense lessons. But she'll never use her real moves in front of anyone she knows. Her parent's aren't really aware because, well... _my_ parents pay for them."  
"Her own mom and dad won't support her?" I said incredulously. It sounded sick!

"You can't hate them so fast," Holden said defensively, but he was smiling. "They treat Tameron like a stained-glass window; they don't know any better. My parents have tried talking to them about it, but they're just paranoid Tameron might get hurt."  
"I really can't wait to meet your cousin," Simone said. I couldn't help agreeing.

We climbed the front steps and waited behind him as he wrapped his fingers around the brass door knob, but then turned back to us with a wince on his face.

"Erm... one more thing... she has this homicidal chihuahua---"

On cue, this high-pitched, maddened yapping broke out in rounds from the other side of the door. It sounded like one of Seth's animal impersonations. The barking burst from a miniscule throat, but it beat against the door like a tidal wave about to crush an island. It was insane, and hilarious.

"Menace," Holden said simply, shaking his head, still grimacing. "Total menace..."

He turned the knob in slow motion, and cautiously inched it open---

"Zutara!" a high, sweet voice snapped from behind the door. "Down, girl! Good girl. C'mere, sweetie..."

The barking was reduced to a comical snarl: it was like a kitten fighting off burglars.

"Tameron?" Holden called through the inch-open door. "Is the beast restrained?"

"Jelly donut, Hold, she's just a puppy!"  
"I'd just like to keep my legs, thank you very much."

He opened the door skeptically, Simone and I following him in earnest. We stepped into a nicely kept entry way, the floors lined with polished wood and beige walls leading long hallways in either direction. It reminded me of Gran's old house in Nevada. But I wasn't about to tell him that, heh, heh...

But the rest of the house was instantly overshadowed when I saw the small girl standing some paces before us, clutching the small, golden chihuahua to her chest. She would come up to my shoulders, like A.J.. She was stocky and pale, but the whiter complexion went well with her deep chocolate hair, which was styled a bit like Simone's. Long, fraying bangs were scattered across her face, so I almost couldn't see her eyes, white as snow, staring blankly ahead like two pieces of glass set in her sockets. It was hard not to stare.

(Don't stare at her eyes!)

Just give me a minute! I'll adjust.

(Think of Zane or something---)

Don't _even_ go there!

I noticed band-aids on her knees and elbows, her grass-stained kaki shorts, a bright lime shirt sporting the large, bold words _BRATTY WITH BRAINS _across her chest.

Nice. I liked it.

"Tam," Holden chided, "I told you to put the rat in the back yard."  
"Zutara is not a rat!" Tameron insisted shortly, cuddling the small dog. It looked alien: it's bug-eyes were as big as it's nose, staring at me with trembling ears like Simone and I were german shepherd bullies here to swipe it's lunch money.

"Well, anyway---" Holden rubbed the back of his neck, glancing towards Simone and I.

"I've brought buddies home: this is Simone and Kade."  
Tameron turned her empty eyes towards the door, lips parted in anticipation. I fumbled glances with Holden and Simone until, awkwardly, I extended a hand to touch hers. As soon as we made contact, she smiled, shaking it enthusiastically.

"How are you?" she asked. I thought for a minute she would drop the chihuahua--- Zutara, was it's name?--- but her small, stout fingers were able to span it's waist and hold it like a telephone near her head. It snarled in frantic awareness, watching me move closer to Tameron like I was a dangerous virus.

"Fine, thanks. I'm Kade," I said, smiling even though she couldn't see me. I then stepped aside for Simone to extend a similar introduction. Tameron seemed elated and slightly mischievous to meet us.

"A.J.'s told me about you," she said, pointing somewhere near my shoulder. "Kade, right?"  
"Yeah," I said unsteadily.

"A.J. knows you?" Simone asked. My thoughts exactly.

Tameron turned in the direction of her voice.

"Yeah, he's a friend of mine. Do you know him?"  
"He's my little brother!" Simone said.

Tameron's eyes widened.

"Really? He never mentioned you..."  
I watched Simone's eyes darken. I hid a smirk.

"But I'm sure he appreciates you," Tameron said quickly.

"Sure," Simone said, shrugging. "He's a little brother, what do you expect?"  
"Actually, he's here now," Tameron said, turning this time in Holden's direction. "He's playing Guitar Hero, that's all he ever does over here; hey, we also made some Kool-Aid. Come try it!"  
"Erm---" Holden glanced at us.

"Oh, Holden's friends?" Tameron addressed us, turned in our direction, looking somewhere at my knees, and held up the chihuahua like she was handing over a phone call on hold. It's beady eyes narrowed as it saw us, tiny ears folding back over it's head.

"This is Zutara," she said cheerfully. "She still has to get used to being around so many people, so try not to squash her."

I smiled. "Sure thing."  
"What kind of name is 'Zutara'?" Simone asked curiously.

"It's Italian!" Tameron said, brimming with excitement. "Well, a little Indian, and a bit Egyptian, and sort of Arabic I guess--- _Za_tara is an alteration, and that's Italian too---"

"Okay, where's the Kool-Aid?" Holden interrupted, throwing me a bored smirk. I grinned in response.

"Patience is a virtue," Tameron said simply and shoved his hand from her shoulder, feeling her way to the staircase just at my right.

"A.J.!" she shrieked up the stairs. I could here Dragon Force pulsing from an unseen doorway.

"Yeah!" a familiar voice screamed back.

"Holden's here!"  
A.J. made a choking sound of excitement and the ceiling rumbled as he threw himself to the staircase. I watched white socks and baggy, black shorts wobble into view as he came bounding down to us. The shirt he wore, too large for him, was white, with a turquoise arrow on the chest pointing downward, just like the shirt I'd last seen him in. He also wore new beanie: it was white too, with the same baby blue arrow directed towards his forehead.

I began to wonder what kind of trademark it was; the kid seemed to have a thing for it.

He met my eyes and beamed, totally ignoring his sister's presence.

"Sup, homies!" he said, extending his fists.

"Hey, A.J.," I said, softly knocking my knuckles against his own.

"Yeah, that's right, _p_ound me!" He exaggerated the 'p' sound with popping lips, turning to offer the same fist to Holden.

"Lovely to see you too, twerpazoid," Simone sighed from behind me. "Does mom know you're here?"

"Yes, my deluctable," A.J. said dramatically. "Shall I show you to the parlor now?"

"Shut up."

"Kool-Aid, anyone?" A.J. rebounded almost instantly.  
"Come on!" Tameron hissed.

She bent quickly to set Zutara on the floor: the puny dog snarled again, threatening to let out an earsplitting yap, before she tucked her stub of a tail between her toothpick legs and waddled off in desperate retreat. Have you ever seen a chihuahua waddle? I'll tell you now: _the_ most hilarious thing on the planet.

A.J. leapt from the last step with a thud on the wooden floor and grabbed Tameron's wrist, pulling her quickly down the front hall and into what I could only assume was the kitchen.

Holden sighed, smiling skeptically, and motioned for us to follow.

"These kids are the end of the world as we know it," he explained. "Watch your beverages."

---------

For the next hour, Tameron and A.J. basically took their places at our sides, especially when Holden cracked out the X-Box 360 for us to play. I was horrible, but Simone was a pro, and I was just content to sit and watch she and Holden get overly competitive with one another. It had turned out that the Kool-Aid had been loaded with salt, but Tameron had served us the wrong pitcher anyway, the one with sugar, so A.J. had volunteered to feed the salty one to his dog Appa.

"Don't you dare give Appa that!" Simone shrieked, and A.J. just laughed.

Five o' clock rolled around somewhere when I started getting hungry. Tameron and A.J. slipped back off to the kitchen to rally up some snacks while the rest of us voted over movies to watch. In the end, we chose the newly produced film of _Transformers_, and hit 'play' the instant Tameron and A.J. returned to the basement.

Over Optimus Prime's booming, mechanical voice, the ones you hear in cartoon shows, and Shia LaBeouf's frantic comedy, my thoughts sort of meandered.

(Hm, I wonder where...)

Oh, please, it was just a ride home... We even fought, just as usual!

(That's editing for you...)

Let's keep this rational, okay?  
(Fine, but you say one thing about how Zane looked like a hunkalicious dream boat and I'll---)

What? _Think_ me to death?

(Well, no, actually, I was thinking more about a reward for my higher influence.)

Ha! Do your worst!

(All right, then. Let's begin at his hair... folds of obsidian, shimmering like volcanic tissue, softly fluttering in the gentle breeze---)

"Hey, Holden?"

He blinked, looking at me.

"Yeah?"

"Pass the Swedish Fish?"  
He grinned and chucked the bag near my lap. I caught with fewer fingers than I'd extended, interrupting his perfect shot to the space between my legs-- I'd forgotten he was a high school basketball champ and I was Kade Waters of the Butterfingers.

Stuffing my face with little red fish, I did my best to focus on the movie, not to mention the rest of the evening.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My name is Zane.

I got carried away again, and my uncle is gonna kill me.

The cops were being nosey--- what was I supposed to do, look afraid? It's like they'd been daring me to break the speed limit, it's their fault I ended up accelerating through that red light...

Oh, no, Uncle's not gonna kill me about the cops, nah. He's gonna kill me 'cause I didn't bring Kade Waters _home_ with me. Yeah. Right. Like getting her to even sit on the bike with me was hard enough.

Ah, well. It was an okay ride, wasn't it?

I could see Uncle's car parked in the driveway as I pulled up--- hm. Weird. Usually he wasn't home till eight, maybe nine. I'd gotten used to hanging around alone in the house all day long, getting my own meals, kicking my own butt for not doing homework and stuff.

Did I even bring that crap home? Man, just the day for him to actually be here to nag me...

I set my foot down on the pavement just as I coasted into the open garage, parking the bike and then wrenching the key out before setting it back against the wall. I hurried to the door before I was asphyxiated by the reek of sawdust and motor oil.

The screen door made that old-fashioned slapping sound when I opened it a little too wide, a little too anxiously, slamming it against the wall for about the bajillionth time in that last fourteen years we'd lived here. A crap load of paint was peeling off the blue railing--- good thing, too. That's the ugliest color of blue I've ever seen, and I've only got one eye to see out of.

Well, no, I'm not blind, I just say that for effect.

Judas priest, do I practice self-degradation for entertainment?  
"Zane?"  
It was just messed up hearing his voice from the living room at this hour; I'd walked right into the back of our cramped, little kitchen, the counter at my immediate left, where I threw down my keys, tucked my thumb in my pocket, and brushed those obnoxious bangs from my eyes, trying to look normal.

"Yeah?"

There was the sound of papers and chairs from the living room just a wall away, and I waited until Uncle's familiar bald head appeared. The guy had always reminded me of John Williams or something, with his graying beard and hair, and the neatly combed layer of fluff on his scalp.

He stared at me from over those rectangular glasses, wearing his famous proverb look--- one I hate like the Devil can hate--- and then spoke.

"Good to see you," he said warmly. "Though you're a little late."  
"You're not exactly on a regular schedule either, you know."

He smiled, his old eyes wrinkling. "No, sorry, I decided to take a day off."  
"Decided."  
"They were out of chamomile at the office," he said, shrugging, as if it were obviously justifiable. "What's any other point in being there?"

"Money?" I rolled my eyes, moving around the counter to the fridge. "So did you get your tea, Mrs. Potts?"  
My uncle lifted an eyebrow. "I did. And you? What's your story?"  
It wasn't the kind of suspicion those super obnoxious parents use, the ones who know their kids have probably been out doing really bad stuff. Well, drugs are kinda above my budget, and gangs just seem more immature than first graders, so Uncle can relax and know I was probably just taking my sweet time.

Still, there was that twinkle in his eye I couldn't really afford looking at before I'd have to burst into hysterics--- the old man could drive me nuts some times.

"I was... just touring the city," I said, shuddering a little as the icy breath of the fridge landed on my wind-swept arms.

"Mm, hm."  
"C'mon, what do you _want_ me to say?" I lifted out the milk carton and unscrewed the top.

Uncle shrugged, stepping now fully into the kitchen. "I want you to use a cup."  
I grimaced and lowered the carton from my lips, moving to the cupboards.

"I've got all day, Zane. You know what time I usually get home."  
That's when I knew he knew. I didn't continue looking for a cup, I just stayed facing the cupboards so I didn't have to look at him.

"Uncle, I've been turning Jennifer down ever since Kindergarten."  
"I don't think I'm talking about Jennifer."  
"_You_ don't think."  
"Well, neither do you. You probably know better than _I_ do who I'm talking about."  
I sighed, long and heavily. "Not now, Uncle, please, please..."  
He laughed. "Well? Come on, what happened? Oh, and along the lines of Jennifer, I happened to run into her at the mall today and overheard a rather interesting conversation of hers."

I glanced over my shoulder, scowling at him. "What, you're the eavesdropper now, too?"  
"What else am I? Anyway, she was talking with a couple more of her friends... about, if I recall correctly, '_how freakin' adorable you looked_' this afternoon."  
I groaned, turning away. "I can't believe you _listen_ to that kind of stuff, it's as if you _like_ it!"  
He held up his hands innocently. "I'm just saying, I'm just saying! She's quite enthusiastic about you, and I don't want you to abandon ship just because she's been on your case since childhood."  
"Well, incase you've missed this little point, any girl who just is obsessed with appearances isn't gonna score high in my box."  
"She was playing around, Zane, just making small talk with her friends. I only thought it was amusing, I didn't mean to upset you."

"And here I am thinking you knew me."  
He chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets. "All right, all right, enough about Jennifer, since you've made it perfectly clear you're not interested."  
I made a slicing motion across my throat just to seal the deal.

"Okay. Now, will you tell me what happened on the ride?"  
I only groaned again, leaning my forehead on the freezer. "It was nothing, Uncle, please..."

"Nothing!" he laughed. "You think I'm color blind?"  
I blinked. "What?"  
"Your cheeks are pink."

I spun around, staring wildly into the sink. "You're crazy, Uncle, totally crazy!"

He chortled loudly. "No need to be ashamed, Zane, it's perfectly normal at your age."  
"_What's_ perfectly normal? You're nuts."  
"Who was the girl? Was she the one who just moved in?"

"Don't. Don't even."  
"All day, Zane, all day."  
I let my shoulders fall in a long, loud sigh. Feeling my face to make sure none of the so-called 'pink' was left, I turned to glower at him.

"Yeah, it was her."  
"Knew it." Uncle smacked his lips in satisfaction.

"Don't," I warned again.

"And? Will you tell me her name now?"

"Kade Waters." And suddenly I'm on a roller coaster? What the flip's wrong with my stomach?!  
"_Waters_!" Uncle snapped his fingers. "That's it. I heard about them when they'd first moved in. So what else happened?"  
I thought for a nanosecond, and tried a diversion.

"I got busted by the cops."

"With Kade, Zane."  
"You don't miss a beat, do you?"  
"Not a blink."

"She got pissed at one point, which got me pissed, which got us both pissed even more, but besides that, it was pretty normal."  
"What got her angry?" He looked at me like it was my fault.  
I shook my head. "Something about that idiot thug Jace Freeman."  
His brow furrowed as if he were solving a trig problem on my forehead. "Who was the offense?"

"I was. Isn't everyone?"  
"Maybe she thinks of him differently." Still, despite his attempt to reason, his own gray opinion about the punk seeped through.

"Yeah, and maybe she's out of her mind, too," I grumbled.  
"Well, I don't think it's relevant... what else happened?"  
At least I'd gotten him for a second; Freeman was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

Then again, who _wants_ to waste breath on that deliquent?

"I took her home," I said, shrugging.  
"Why didn't you bring her here?" He looked shocked, disappointed.

I blinked, my face mirroring his. "What, do you think I'm crazy like you?"  
"She probably would have been more than happy to come," he insisted. "You should have invited her."  
Horror was creeping into my eyes. "Uncle, if you knew half the things we've said to eachother..."

"If your relationship is so bitter, how come this whole bike ride took place successfully?"  
"Who said it was successful?" I demanded.  
"Your sigh did, the instant you walked in the door." Great, now he was smug.

I glowered. I didn't remember sighing... but I bit back my anger, not about to run off on another vein of arguments.

"She hates me," I said simply. "You should have seen her face when I offered her a ride."  
"I bet it was as far from hate as the earth is from Pluto."  
"Yeah, well, you just lost that bet."  
"Now, Zane, honestly. Do you really think Jennifer talks about you the way she does just because she's bored?"  
But he shifted gears quickly 'cause he'd seen the fire start in my gaze.

"Um, so, why did you ask her in the first place?"

Uh, oh, here it was: Judgment Day. The smugness took his smile again--- I wanted to smack him upside the head, but I only could imagine the crap that would get me in, and c'mon, I don't _really_ want to smack my uncle around.

Even though he damn well knows how to push my buttons sometimes...

"I asked her because... because..."  
I leaned my head on the back of the cupboard and sighed. _Again_.

"Because she was _there_, what more do you want from me?"  
He smiled knowingly. "Convenience."  
"Well, yeah--- I mean---"  
"And she was entirely alone? No other friends with her?"  
I swallowed. "No, she was with some friends... That Taylors jock, and Simone Kyler."

"Ohhhh..." He nodded, still grinning. It was infuriating. "So it _wasn't_ convenient."  
"Ah, come on..."  
"I'm just wondering, Zane---"  
"Sure you are."  
"You're not one to go to awkward lengths to get something you want. I'm just happy for you, that's all."  
"_Happy_ for me?" I scowled. "What's that supposed to mean? Uncle, I don't _like_ Kade---"  
"Sure you don't. You want some tea?"  
My head rolled with my eyes, with my groan of exasperation. "Fine, fine, anything to end this conversation as soon as possible."  
And with a smirk, Uncle set to work.

I just worked to get out of that kitchen---

"Oh, and Zane..."  
I stopped mid stride, hand on the entryway. "Yeah?"  
"What's that on your shirt?"  
"What do you mean?"

I stepped back and studied the front, but there was nothing there.

"Not the front," Uncle said, "the back."  
I blinked, then tried glancing over my shoulder.

"Bring it here," he instructed, holding out his hand.

A little peeved, I pulled the shirt off over my head and dropped it into his open palm, shivering a little as the A.C. touched my bare skin.

Uncle turned the shirt right-side-out, moving it in his fingers like a circle of pizza dough until he found what he was looking for. It was up near the neckline, on the back of my left shoulder.

"Here--- look at this."  
I moved to his side and looked down.

There, smeared in the white fabric, was about an inch of glitter. Glitter. It was so bizarre, for a moment I could only stand there and stare at it.

But living with a teenage sister for a good portion of my life hadn't gone without teaching me a few things, and my stomach suddenly dropped in dread.

"Is this... lip gloss?" Uncle asked, his voice shaking like it was everything he could do to keep from bursting into laughter.

I snatched the shirt out of his hands and marched straight out of there before things could get any worse.

----------

Still me, Zane. Sunday was such a dead day. I swear I was lying in bed till like, two in the afternoon. Uncle had gone to some church... it was a different one every week. He's not officially any religion, he just goes and listens to the music and stuff like that. I don't think he even knows how churches work. He certainly doesn't care, anyway.

Well, the phone was what finally got me out of bed. I'd been awake for about four hours, just dozing off now and then, trying to go back to sleep, but too lazy to reach up and close my blinds and try to mimic darkness. Our ring tone is so annoying, I had to answer it just to shut it up. I did some crunches in bed to wake my muscles up, just get them to drag my still asleep mind into the kitchen. It didn't register in my head that I was still wearing jeans and a belt until I'd made it to the phone... When had I fallen asleep last night? I wasn't wearing a shirt either... When had I taken it off?

Oh, yeah... something about glitter...

So the phone call turned out to be a telemarketer... or an unwanted wake-up call, however you want to put it. My shower was way too hot and way too long, but as if my brain was awake enough to notice. The bathroom was a freakin' geyser when I dried off; I had to spend about twenty seconds brushing steam aside, looking for the mirror. Just another usual dead Sunday at the Ashborne house...

Uncle got home around four. He probably was helping out at the food bank or something... By then I was all dressed, lying on the floor in the living room, tossing the remote control up and down as the T.V. buzzed and blinked around shots somewhere to my right. In my peripheral I saw him poke his head inside, studying me over his glasses.

"Have fun at home?" he asked casually.

"Just got up," I muttered vaguely. "Have fun at church?"  
"Yes, the music was beautiful as always."  
"So did you stop at the drug store or something?"

"Hm?"  
"You're home a little later than usual."  
"Oh, yes, about that. Well, it just so happens that I did in fact go to a store, but not the drug store. And there in the produce section, I ran into a sweet, little woman, a little older than I am, I'll dare to say."

"Cool..." I sighed as the remote missed my hand and landed on the carpet above my head.

"Well, we'd gotten our carts mixed up, and of course ended up introducing ourselves..."  
"As you can't help but not do," I finished for him, and he smiled.

"Yes. Well, her name was Jamie Waters."

"Wha---?" I barely resisted sitting up. Holy crap, hold on--- _Waters_?

Oh, no... it's about the motorcycle isn't it? Crap, I know it is!

"A very nice woman," Uncle went on. "Well, I recognized her name, of course, and we chatted for a while..."

Here it comes... here it comes... crap, I was so dead... I could just imagine the look on her face when she'd seen who had dropped her daughter off from school...

"She told me she was hosting an art festival later tonight, of course I told her I'd be happy to come see it."  
"Damn." I exhaled heavily, and suddenly sat up. "Eugh--- what?"  
Uncle blinked. "Hm?"

"You... you talked about an art festival?"  
"Yes, the one tonight at the park. Were you... expecting something else?"  
Like, you don't even know how much. "Er--- no, I'm just... whatever. Cool."

"You should come with me," Uncle said casually, (bull, by the way) moving into the kitchen.

"Why would I go to an art festival?" Anywhere near Kade with Uncle in the area was sounding sort of like a bermuta triangle.

"Well, won't Kade be there?"

Wow, he actually had gotten to the point this time. That's a first.

"What if she hates art festivals?" I asked, looking at the T.V. warily.  
"That wouldn't be very supportive of her grandmother..."  
"What if she's sick?"  
"She was out just yesterday with you."

"What if _I_ made her sick?"

"Oh, please, Zane---"  
"I---"

"Why don't you get outside?" There he goes, the master of disguise. Uncle has this knack for changing the subject, this gift; it's all for me, just to give me time to think.

I guess I could learn to appreciate it, just... if what he wanted me to think _about_ wasn't so... so...

Easy...

Oh, no, that was a full-on sigh, wasn't it?

"Go on," he said, waving at the door. "You feel like it."

Yeah, telling me how to feel... Hoping I'll feel it... Definitely Uncle.

I hauled myself to my feet, stumbling a little, and slipped on some shoes. What was I wearing? Jeans, belt, T-shirt...

Wait... this is the same T-shirt I wore yesterday when...

Uncle glanced at the back of my left shoulder as I left, smiling and turning away. I just closed the door before he could speak.

Outside, the sun was a little overwhelming at first. It was freakin' hot, too. It's only March, people... or is it April?  
Ah, who cares...

I decided taking a few spins on my bike down the beach would just make me think more about what he wanted me to think about, so I made my way across the lawn towards the garage. Uncle's car sat nose-to-butt with mine, which was hogging the entire garage with the sloppiest parking job I'd ever seen in my life. Oh, well. I set my foot on Uncle's headlight and took a hold of the drain pipe above the garage with my fingers, just to balance my weight so I wouldn't be slamming it all into the hood of Uncle's car. Quickly I stepped over the windshield and onto the top, scooting a little closer to the drainpipe. After securing my grip, I hauled myself up on the palms of my hands: it was getting easier since I'd been up on the roof more often lately... It was a good place to get away from everything, which, I could only assume, which was what Uncle wanted.

And probably what I wanted too.

One knee, then the other, then into a stand. There was a strong breeze and it brushed past faster than I expected; I used my wobble to start my climb, hiking up the slant of our roof.

The neighborhood sort of spilled out as I reached the top, and I was only on the first level. To my right, a whole other chunk of the house shot up about ten feet higher. Up there was where the swamp cooler was and all that stuff. It would be nice to get up there and relax, but it was too much of a hassle to drag the ladder up too.

To my left, at the very edge before the drop to pavement, was our chimney. A useless block of cement in my opinion, but sometimes a good head rest. I walked over to it, resting my elbows on it's edge and staring out at the twisting road, the path I'd driven a thousand and more times. I followed in my mind's eye to the fork, the place where right lead to the beach and left lead to the city. I'd almost always taken left. Only a few times had I taken right.

One of those times had been yesterday.

I remembered Kade, every little detail of her. She'd been the Kade yesterday that I'd want as a last impression, the Kade I _wanted_ to have every detail of in my head.

She'd been wearing simple jeans, the ones that hug your legs, the ones the skaters wear. Simple slip-on Airwalks. They'd been periwinkle, kinda like the rest of her. And... she'd worn a short-sleeved sweater, also periwinkle... well, that had been sort of lavender. Then of course her mom's necklace, and that was blue... Her fingernails had been painted too. Sky-blue.

But all that blue kind of had been washed out when I'd set them in contrast with her eyes. They were the bluest things I'd ever seen, it was nuts. Really nuts... and really beautiful.

Her skin was tan. Really tan... it was probably hereditary. She didn't seem like the beach bunny type. Yeah, 'cause her brother is tan, too.

Her hair was long... and curly. Well, sort of curly. More wavy. And it was super dark brown, a few shades up from black. She'd probably dyed it. It'd been pulled up in a pony tail, something I hadn't seen before, and two strands in front had fallen loose. They were held back from her eyes by light blue barrettes.

That look she'd given me when I'd offered to drive her home... Sure, I'd been playing indifferent with my uncle, and to her grandma, I'd made it seem like something else, but...

Who am I kidding? I know exactly what that look was. Like Uncle said, it wasn't anything close to hate or disdain.

She was flattered.

Wow. That's kind of... strange, don't you think? I mean, considering all we'd...

Well, I don't know, maybe I'm sugarcoating it. Maybe I'm getting too hopeful.

Hopeful...

When she'd grabbed me around the waist, even when she'd yelped in my ear, it'd been like...

Jeez, I can't finish a thought these days, can I?

Ever since I met Kade.

Kade...

It sounds good, easy to say. Easy to like. It's... her.

So easy to like.

"Zane?"

I glanced down casually at the familiar voice on the driveway. Uncle was halfway in his Civic, one leg between the door and the car. He looked up at me against the breeze like me being on the roof was as normal as me watching T.V.

"I'm going to pick up Logan."  
"Okay."  
I didn't watch him drive away. I just found a way to lay down comfortably on the roof and feel the sun on my face, the cool breeze that balanced the heat.

I probably would have fallen asleep had it been another day, but I didn't: Kade wasn't the only one losing sleep over someone anymore.

----------

Hey, it's me, Kade. So with it being a weekend and all, Seth and I had been out in the water probably since like, eleven in the morning. It had been the earliest Seth was willing to wake up on a Sunday, and it was the point where I couldn't lay awake in bed a moment longer with all that sunlight pouring in through my window. Gran was at some park setting up for a mini-festival later than night, so basically the whole day was just free-for-all. And in the Waters language, since we moved here, that means a whole day on the beach. Well, how convenient, it's right in our backyard!

By two o'clock, Seth and I had both been soaked to the bone, dried by the sun, and then soaked to the bone again. Were on our second cycle of drying off, still laughing about some stupid game we'd played when we were little when we heard Gran's car pull up on the pavement. A few minutes passed and then she stuck her head out the window, some kind of excitement in her eyes.

"Hey, kids!" she said cheerfully.

"Hey, Gran," Seth and I said simultaneously, me smiling at her wrinkled face, Seth busy sorting rocks in his hand.

"You up for some lunch?" Gran asked.

"Sure." I turned to Seth. "How 'bout you?"  
He blinked, looking up at me. "What?"  
"You want lunch, kiddo?" Gran repeated.

"Oh--- yeah, yeah. Hey, did you get the monterrey jack?"  
"Yes and you're welcome."  
"Thank you, Gran," Seth said sweelty. Gran smiled.

"All right, not come on in! Oh, hey, you kids are planning on coming to the art festival this evening, right?"  
Seth glanced at me, which I returned with a long look.

"Of course we are," I said firmly. "It's your work. Why wouldn't we come?"  
"I've invited some new friends, and they all seem to have kids about your age, so it'll be a good time for social interactions."  
"Sounds good to me." Seth shrugged and turned back to the water, tossing a few rocks into the waves.

"Okay, that'll be at seven." Gran receeded back in through the window into the house. "Now come eat some lunch!"

**A/N**: oooooooooo Zane likes Kade! hope you liked it! reviews are cookies!


	12. Chapter 12: The Festival

12: THE FESTIVAL

---

_I Miss You blink 182_

The festival was packed: it actually had the feel of a carnival, due to all the tents and displays, the tables and the food stands, and just the sheer amount of people. Of course, this was for every artist in the San Diego area, and maybe beyond that, so you could only assume there would be tons of appearances. Even in the first thirty minutes when people were still arriving, Seth had been sure to comment: "Woah, there's a freakin' trash load of people here," which had been responded without disappointment by Gran's sarcasm: "Thank you, Seth."

The park was ready for that many people, too: it was a wide expanse of flat grass, a few hills on the edge and a play set just beside those. I guessed an elementary school was right over those hills, but I was new to the city and too lazy to hike around and find out.

Gran's displays were almost smack-dab in the middle of the whole complex. Those at the extreme entrance were those who had been with this art program, whatever it was, for at least thirty years or something: so in other words, the big shots, though I couldn't touch their art if my life depended on it, so what can I really say? Despite all that, Gran seemed fine with her setup, and it wasn't long before enough people were at the festival that location didn't really matter anymore.

Seth and I had stuck together for about the first forty minutes, when the crowds were still seeping in. We'd bought about three sticks of cotton candy, two sodas, a box of nachos each, and little bits of candy along the way... Gran had warned us about loading it all up right at the beginning but of course, like many other adults' advice, we ended up totally ignoring it. Soon I was feeling too sick to even look at a kernel of popcorn or take a whiff of french fries, so I retreated to the very front of the festival where the smell of the food stands was a little less detectable.

By then, Seth and I had separated: a few girls from his Calculus class had showed up and he'd probably crossed twenty yards in half a second the instant he'd spotted them. I didn't mind: it's not like I didn't know what to expect from Seth.

I hadn't realized the evening had passed so fast until the sun started setting. When I thought I was under a tree to escape the sun, I was actually just becoming denser and denser a shadow as the sky got darker. When evening was no more that a strip of pink on the horizon, I stepped out from the tree and watched a few workers light torches throughout the complex.

To my left, about twenty feet, was the parking lot. It was loaded, of course, but right as I looked over I noticed one couple getting in their white Durango and pulling out, leaving probably the best parking place free.

It hadn't been five minutes since the couple left before a red Civic pulled up to occupy the slot. I watched through the dim evening light, half under my tree, half not, as a plump old man stepped out from the driver's seat, wearing a complete suit and tie. Hm. Maybe he was religious: it was Sunday, after all. I'd noticed plenty other people dressed formally, and I didn't think it was for some show-and-tell art festival.

There was a charm, a likable trait in his eyes that kept me watching him as he passed by the first two exhibits into the festival, and when I couldn't watch him anymore, I decided to take my own little meander through another section of the displays I hadn't visited. Ten minutes later, believe it or not, I ran into Gran.

"Hey, Katydid!" She was carrying a large cardboard box of art supplies in both arms: pain brushes and mini easels stuck out in all directions from it's open top.

"Hey, Gran." I hurried to her side. "You need help with that?"  
"Oh, no, I got it, just heading over to Judy's tent--- oh, shoot, I forgot my camera in the car---"  
"I'll get it," I volunteered, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her car keys. "Where's Judy at?"  
"Thanks, pumpkin; she's just on the far south side, right near the big toy. You can find that, can't cha?"  
"Sure thing."

And we went our separate ways, she off south, me west towards the parking lot.

----------

Gran had been one of the hosting artists, of course, so she had a prime parking spot right up front. And she was older than anyone on the board, so naturally they gave her less a distance to walk. It sure made Seth and I feel like freeloaders, but Seth couldn't care less and I soon got to realize the advantages after a while.

Her car was nestled, this little maroon volkswagen, between two four-wheel-drive Toyotas, so no matter what side I unlocked first, I'd have to duck to not knock myself out on one of their rearview mirrors. I rummaged around the front glove compartment, searching for a little silver digital camera in about nine-thirty-at-night light, when I heard it.

It was such a familiar sound: way too familiar. And I was way overdue for hearing it again.

I hurried from Gran's car and peered around the nose of the Toyota on my right: the mechanical snarl was growing louder, cruising closer along the asphalt.

Zane appeared out of nowhere on his motorcycle, jumping the curb and coasting to a clean stop on the side of the sidewalk.

My breath caught: he hadn't changed much from Friday.

His hair was as long and rugged as ever, slices of black bangs hanging on the bridge of his nose, around his eyes and over his ears. He probably was wearing the exact same jeans, ripped and frayed at the ends, the same black shoes, the same... everything, really. The only difference was that tonight his T-shirt wasn't white but black, and around his waist was tied a small gray sweater. Other than that, it still baffled me how... appealing he looked. Yet... unapproachable.

I watched nervously as he slid silently on his bike into the shade of the trees and parked it behind the brick restroom building, completely out of sight from anyone who hadn't seen him put it there.

He hadn't spotted me, at least not that I knew of.

For some reason, as he walked out from behind the small building, I ducked back behind the Toyota. Hiding from Zane was weird enough: the fact that I couldn't find the courage to step out and say hi to him, that I _wanted_ to hide, was even more disturbing.

(C'mon, seriously? He's your buddy now, at least in your definition!)

I know, but think about the last time we'd met.

(He'd given you a ride home. So what?)

So it's a little intense, that's what! What if we get in a fight? We always do.

(You're such a pessimist!)

Now's just not the right time, okay?

I took a deep breath and watched him move slowly across the pavement, unwinding the gray sweater from his waist and vaguely putting it on. It fit him pretty snug, and again I couldn't help but notice the wiry bulk in his chest and shoulders... and arms... Oy vey.

And even though I noticed all that, there was something... more. Something that hadn't been there on Friday. On Friday, he'd seemed secure, serene, and even humorous. Now, the dreamy glaze in his eyes wasn't like that: yes, it was just as captivating, right, pixie?

(I'll say.)

But it wasn't ease. Tonight it was the exact opposite: insecurity, maybe even worry... doubt, low expectations...

I didn't emerge from my hiding place until he was long gone in the jumble of the festival.

----------

Walking around for ten minutes--- after delivering Gran's camera--- knowing Zane was somewhere in all the passing crowds seemed more like a few days. I didn't know why I was nervous about seeing him: what was there to be nervous about? Yeah, I know. Nothing. So what? What's up?  
(Oh, and suddenly _I'm_ the one who's supposed to have all the answers?)

I wasn't asking you specifically. They were incoherent questions.

(Well, we can find Zane and make them coherent if you want.)  
Uh, no thanks.

(Chicken.)

What?

(Bock, bock, bock!)

Oh, shut up, you're so immature.

(Buuaaack! Bock, bock, buuaack!)

Wham.

I'd just turned a corner when I ran into something. I guess I was too focused on stupid chicken noises in my head to watch where I was going. My right shoulder was jerked literally behind me as I spun around in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry---"  
"Sorry---"  
Zane stared right down at me with wide eyes, and I stared right back up at him.

(Ah, fate... It's a beautiful thing.)

I don't believe I requested commentary. At least not sadistic commentary.

Zane's hazel-gold eyes were startled and even blinked a few times, but as soon as a second had passed, as soon as he realized who I was, they softened considerably. And boy, did my stomach notice. Both of us just stood there gazing at eachother for half a moment longer, and then I finally found my voice.

"Oh--- hi, Zane." I smiled, working to sound as cheerful as possible.

(I don't think you have to work very hard, honey.)

Thanks, I kinda noticed that...

"Hi," he said, and his voice, like basically all of him, was just like Friday: illegally gentle.

"So..." I tried a chuckle. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I didn't expect to see myself here either," he replied.

A moment of awkward quiet, and then I sighed.

"We can't think of anything more inventive than slamming into eachother, can we?"  
He shrugged. "I'm never inventive."

I smiled.  
"So is that why you're here? Thinking about discovering your inner artist?"

He frowned. "I've got enough inner stuff to worry about at the moment."

Sheesh. Join the club, pal, we've got jackets.

(Hey!)

"So you're just here for the free food?" I asked.

He smirked smally. "My uncle fed me like a pig, actually."  
"Then... just out for a stroll?"  
His eyes deepened. I swallowed. "You could say that," he said, glancing down at the grass.

We were silent for a moment, and I noticed that when he put his hands in his sweater pockets, I was doing the same thing without even thinking about it.

"You want to walk around with me for a while?" I decided it was an innocent enough offer that wouldn't totally destroy anything we'd built up.

He seemed to think so too. I was relieved.

The smile wasn't on his lips but in his eyes, like most of him is.

"Sure."  
---------

The first thing I'd expect from Zane and I walking slowly side by side would be total and complete awkward silence, and at some points that's exactly what it was, but actually, most of the time it was pretty relaxing.

Most of my nervousness had stuck around--- even as he'd given me those reassuring eyes!--- but after we'd run blindly into a knee-high table of miniature pottery, knocking most of it into the grass, and had to set it back up as quickly and as well as we could before getting screwed, all that nervousness had washed right off. He'd smiled again, grinned, in fact, and even laughed with me a little. So yeah, that pretty much did the trick. I could tell he was liking my company, and since I'm trying to outgrow denial, I really was liking his too.

It felt like our own little secret, being together.

I mean, you know, together there in that moment, side by side, just walking...

(Right. We got it.)

Okay, just be quiet. But it felt... I don't know, satisfying. Or... something I don't know the name of yet. Whatever. Maybe I'm just going crazy.

We walked around, going absolutely no where, for maybe ten minutes, fifteen... the purple sky was just getting darker and darker. Soon it was ten thirty, and the only light was the street lamps on the edges of the park, the festive torches lit every ten yards, and of course the city lights in all directions. Since it was so dark, most of the displays had moved inside their owner's tent, so anyone who was really there to look at art was now inside those tents, sillouhettes moving around in candlelight. Those still outside were mostly teens, hanging around food stands or photo booths that were still open.

It was cool enough out for a jacket, but considering this was California, it was a very warm night. Zane and I had probably circled the entire complex before we stopped at one stand selling popsicles.

"You want one?" I asked casually, looking at him over my shoulder.

He shrugged. "You?"

"I'm full. Seth and I ate a week's worth when we first got here."  
He blinked. Was that worry in his eyes? "Seth?"  
I smirked. "My brother. He eats like a pig."  
His eyes relaxed noticeably. "Oh. And you take it from him?"  
"Sometimes. Most of the time. Yeah."  
We chuckled.

"So, do you want one?" I asked again, reaching into my pocket.

"I'll pay, what are you doing?" he stepped forward, glancing at my hand.

"Oh, it's fine, I've got plenty of change."  
"Kade, come on---"  
"I owe you."  
He blinked again. "What?"  
"Though I'm sorry I can't get you that nasty pepsi you like." I held his eyes with my smile for a moment longer until realization hit him.

"I guess you do," he said, and smiled too. It was the kind of smile that felt special, out-of-the-vault kind of thing.

"Too bad we're not in school hours," I said. "I guess we can pretend."

"Then you also owe me a sluff," he said, and his smile hardened into a smirk. "There's plenty of quizzes I'm gonna miss in the future."  
"You just know that?"

"I can't help it."

I laughed.

I turned to the booth and got him a popsicle that was bright lime colored: I could only guess what flavor it was, but the color was cool.

"Here." I gave him the hand off by the stick and our fingers met. It was the first time we'd touched since running into eachother an hour before.

After paying, I turned around to look at him. He was watching me closely, fitting the end of the popsicle in his mouth and slowly dragging it out, tasting it. His gaze broke and I stood there, waiting for his verdict.

He shrugged. "Not bad."  
I smiled. "You know what flavor it is?"  
"You don't?"  
"Nope."  
"Great."

We shared another chuckle. Since when is everything so easy with this kid?

"I would have checked it for poison," I said, "but... you know..."  
His eyes widened and I just laughed again.

He took another lick, looking out towards the city at the southern end of the park.

"Did you know there's a skate park behind those hills?" he said, lifting an eyebrow.

"No," I said, "I thought it was a school. Really?"

"It's the exact opposite of a school." Zane smirked. "You wanna go see it?"  
"Sure--- there's plenty of time."  
Right?  
---------

The play set I'd seen was right at the base of one of the hills. It was a large box of tar with a swing set on the far right and the actual big toy on the left. Zane and I emerged from the festival boundaries at it's corner, crossing through it diagonally, moving in between the swings, and then hiking up the side of what I now realized to be a large bowl of hills.

"So I'm assuming there's lots of empty space at the bottom of this bowl," I said to Zane just before we reached the top, "and that's why they stuck a skate park there."  
"Your guess is as good as mine," he replied.  
"It can't be too big then, can it?"  
"It's teeny... if you compare it to the X-Games or something. It's one of the more local parks. There's a bigger one in the middle of the city, that's usually where everyone goes."  
As we reached the crest of the hill, I saw that it _was_ a bowl. The slopes of the hills were all perfectly green, no higher than maybe thirty feet and not too freakin' steep, either. All of it lead down to a large open space that's borders were marked by a wired fence, and just on it's other side I could see the city blazing and flashing in the now full-on nighttime darkness.

And sure enough, there was the skate park, a miniature valley in the middle of the range of hills: it was a collection of about twelve different ramps that melted into one another to make a few large bowls, and maybe five railings. Right now it was deserted, and I was glad, for some reason.

(Maybe you like being alone with Zane.)

Maybe you should shut up pretty soon.

"It serves more as an alleyway at night," Zane said from my left. "Cops have found gangs doing all sorts of drugs in those shady areas."  
"Well, it's a good hiding place," I responded, sighing. "I can't see anything."  
"No one's there now," he said, as if reading how my heart rate had gone up just a tad. "If they were, you'd be able to smell the pot."  
I looked at him, and the look he gave me made me laugh.

"I see you dig my pleasant conversation," he said, and I just laughed more.

"Okay, okay..." I brushed bangs from my brow.

"You wanna go back down?" he asked, grinning from his own chuckles.

"Before we're busted for smoking pot?"  
"Yeah." We laughed together as made our descent back to the swing set.

The nearest street lamp was about twenty yards away behind the big toy, so I couldn't see his face very well as he sank into a swing and finished off his popsicle.

I got into the swing beside him, twisting it to the right so I could face him.

He twisted his too, and we watched our feet for a while as he licked the stick clean.

"Thanks, by the way," he said, gesturing the stick.

"No problem," I said, and for some reason it made me smile.

We looked at eachother for a long moment, and then away, back to the ground.

"So do you go there?" I asked casually... and softly, because of the surrounding silence.

"Where?" His soft voice beat the crap out of mine.

"The skate park. Do you skate?" I looked up to catch his reaction.

He just shrugged. "Sometimes. I used to."  
"Now you're just into your bike?"  
He nodded.

"Yeah, I never thought of you as the skater boy type," I said, studying him again. Yeah, definitely not. He was...

(Better? Worse? )

I don't know... I'll say better.

"Really?" He smirked. "You've only known me a few days."  
"Weeks," I corrected, and he just rolled his eyes.

"So you were a skater in earlier years?" I asked, sharing his smirk.

"When I was a freshman," he said quietly. "I ran with a crowd then."  
"And now?"

He was silent for a moment, then...

"Now I'm independent." He said it indifferently, matter-of-factly. I frowned.

"Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"The skater crowd, Zane."  
He leaned forward in his swing, surprising me for a moment.

"I'll let you in on something," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "Skater clans get ridiculously old."  
"So you outgrew them?" I smiled.

He leaned back. "I outgrew what they stood for."  
"Rebellion?"

"Nah. Fun. It was the Peter Pan theme. Fun just for the sake of getting on people's nerves and excluding the real world."  
"Never growing up."  
"Yeah, that kind of thing. A softer rebellion."

"Just not caring about the world."  
"Yeah. All we ever talked or thought about was girls, music, relationships, and skating. That's it."  
I chuckled. "It sounds like something you'd get bored of."

"Let's just say I needed to live."  
"I think the Peter Pan analogy worked the best. You just wanted to grow a little."  
"Maybe." He sighed. "The guys sure turned out to be disappointing, too."  
"Did they start doing... bad stuff?" I guessed by the look of dislike in his eyes that it was something pretty low.

He shook his head. "They were already that way."  
Silence. I watched him closely while he stared out at the street lamp.

"What do you mean?" He'd honestly lost me.

He sighed heavily and didn't meet my eyes. "It was around the time... my dad got his buisness up and running."  
Suddenly I understood. I swallowed.

"Oh. So they kinda... turned against you?"  
He sighed again. "It was a time bomb. The second one of them had to relocate... that was it for me."  
I bit my lip. "I'm sorry, Zane. That's so unfair."  
"It didn't matter, really," he said, turning back to look at me. "I'd already decided I wasn't really... like them anymore."

"When you said... they did bad stuff already, did..." I couldn't really bring myself to ask him.

But he read me like a book. "Did I try out the drugs and crap they were trying out?"

I looked at my feet.

"Nah." He snorted. "Trust me, your buddies can only have so many girlfriends at one time and say so many cuss words in one sentence before it starts to get annoying."  
I smiled up at him, my spirits lifting. "Yeah. Of course."

We stared at eachother for another moment, and then I smiled wider.

"I'm proud of you."  
Zane lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?"  
"Yeah. It's awesome to meet someone now and then who has really mature judgment, you know?"  
Zane smirked. "I'm assuming that wasn't a first impression."  
I blushed, looking away, resisting a laugh. "We got off on the wrong foot. It was mostly my fault."  
"No, it wasn't."  
"Yeah, Zane."  
"No, Kade."  
"Whatever."

"Whatever yourself."

I looked up at him again, a retort hot on my tongue, but his expression stopped me. His eyes were wary, looking over my shoulder.

"Ah..." Zane stood from the swing, and I followed his eyes to a figure that was quickly making it's way towards us.

It was tall and lanky, with spiky hair down the center of it's head...

"Kade!" it called, moving faster...

Oh, great.

"Oh... uh, that must be Seth..." I stood too, turning around to look back at Zane. He was slowly taking off his sweater, still watching Seth carefully.

"Zane?"

He glanced down at me, a humorous surrender in his eyes. "Yeah?"  
"Er... Look, Seth's not going to get mad at me for hanging out with you," I said quickly, my brow furrowing. "If that's what you're thinking, he's not that much of a pest..."  
Zane smiled softly. "No, I... I gotta go anyway. I'll see you, Kade."

"Zane, c'mon..."  
"I don't want to get you in trouble," he said hushly, glancing over my shoulder again.

"What? Get me in _trouble_? Zane, you're not some wanted criminal---"  
"Maybe not to you," he said, and his smile that was already disappointed turned sad. "I think Seth's in the right place. Anyone can see you're someone worth protecting."

"_Protecting_?"

"At least in his definition."  
"Zane, if you for one second start accepting what people are buttholes enough to say about you---"  
"I never said I was, or will. I won't."  
"Well, good! Now get back here!"

On his first few steps backwards, Seth's cue came:

"Kade!"

I looked over my shoulder and then spun back around at Zane, who was backing away with his sweater slung over his shoulder.

"Don't," I said, stepping forward and gesturing with my hand. "Just stick around, seriously, it'll be fine; gosh, we can't be his paranoid..."  
He stopped, holding his sweater in one hand and hooking his thumb in his belt with the other.

"Okay..." But he was unsure.

"Kade..."  
Seth was ten yards away by now. I could make out the look on his face: he was stunned.

"Kade, where the crap have you been?" He hurried to my side. "I've looked everywhere---"  
"Sorry--- sorry, Seth, I was... hanging out with Zane."  
"Who?" Seth looked over my shoulder at Zane. His brow furrowed.

"Zane Ashborne," I said clearly, watching him. "He's a friend of mine."  
"What?" Seth stared at me, then back at Zane, then at me. Quickly he took my arm and pulled me close, leaning down to whisper...

"Kade, are you crazy? What are you doing with someone like him? Come on, we're going, get your sweater---"  
"Seth, what I'm _doing_ is totally fine," I snapped in a whisper, pulling away. "What's your problem? There's nothing wrong with him!"  
"Kade..." But his breath stopped, and he looked again at Zane, hesitant.

"I was just leaving," Zane said quietly, and in comparison with Seth's voice, his was scratchy as sand, but about a thousand times softer. "See you later, Kade."  
"Yes," I said firmly, watching him back off. "I'll see you at school tomorrow. Bye, Zane."  
And with one last gentle look, he turned and disappeared into the inky darkness.

I glared at Seth. He stared back.

"What?"   
"If you've fallen for all this prejudice that's been infesting the school about Zane, I'm--- argh, it's all so stupid!"  
"Prejudice? Woah, hold up---"  
He caught me as I attempted to march past him.

"Kade, what're you talking about?"  
"What am I talking about? What do you _think_ I'm talking about? Judas Priest, Seth, you're acting like I was hanging out with Jesse James!"  
"You're out here in the middle of a dark park, at least a football field away from any adult, with a teenage boy you hardly even know!" he said, he now glaring too.

"No, a teenage boy _you_ hardly even know," I corrected him icily. "You can't let me trust anyone until you trust them first."  
"Yep, where we're living, at least," he said fiercely. "Now quit whining and let's go. Gran's waiting."  
"Zane's not a bad person!"  
"I never said he was! I'm just a little surprised to see him here with you."  
"Oh, now there you go, sugarcoating it like you did nothing wrong. I swear, Seth, sometimes you just..."  
"All right, I've had enough of this. Come on, we're going _now_."  
"I'm _coming_. You don't have to hold my hand the whole way, either."

I marched ahead of him, and he followed steadily behind.


	13. Chapter 13: Goodbye

13: GOOD-BYE

---

_Shadow of the Day Linkin Park_

Hey, it's Zane again. School on Monday was like the times when everything seems to slip past you. When you stop and wonder if what you just experienced five minutes ago actually happened. The classes were just blurs, all the words spoken just muffled sounds.

The only time my mind halfway opened was when I was cornered by Jennifer after I'd eaten lunch, during the free period. She was more 'crazy' than usual, if you get my meaning. She said something about my locker... I wasn't really listening. I'd just seen Kade get in the lunch line... Hanging out with her last night at the festival had been something weird. But not in the negative sense. I mean, I've already realized how I... you know... feel.

And it went okay, didn't it? The bike ride was pretty cool, and she was all standing up for me last night with her brother...

But then, yesterday, and Friday, I was in my climate. There on the bike, I was me.

There with _her_, I was me.

And now at school, I'm someone totally different.

No... I'm _labeled_ as something I'm not. That's why I'm... more vague than other kids. It's strange to watch myself change so drastically from when I'm at home, when I'm in my climate, and when I'm at school, the other side of my personal world.

That's what this school is. Foreign.

Anyway, sorry about the rant...

First off, the fact that I went to my locker had nothing to do with whatever Jennifer was talking about. I just happened to have some stuff to get rid of, that's all.

But when I flipped my locker open...

I found a pair of jeans on top of my other (few) things. I could tell they were a girl's: they sported certain designs along the lip of the pocket and down the length that I honestly couldn't picture on a guy.

Just as I was starting to wake up enough to get confused, I heard---

I glanced briskly over my shoulder to see Jennifer and another girl, didn't know her name, giggling, obviously at me, with their heads together.

I looked back at the jeans, then at Jennifer. Revelation hit me. It was a strange moment, like there'd been such a completely wrong mix-up, you couldn't really grasp it. It was annoying; no, more than that: I was a little mad. I tried my best to look rational as I snatched the jeans from my locker and walked right up to her.

Jennifer's face had been red before, but now she flushed brighter than I'd ever seen, straightening as I came to stand before her. Biting back the urge to be rude, I held the jeans between us.

"Are these yours?" was all I could say without sounding like a complete jerk. I think I did anyway. Well, what was I supposed to do about it?

I watched her smile falter a second, like she was considering different emotions. She said enough to be narrowed down to "yeah", so I'll just give you that. I don't remember it that well... I watched her enthusiasm crumble. I didn't want to be mean or anything, really. I just... Who was this girl, anyway?  
"Why are they in my locker?" I said it as softly as I could--- crap, crap, crap, don't be mean... don't be mean...

Now I could see it like a movie on her face: she was definitely going to take this offensively. Shhhhhhoot...

She said something about "me putting my jeans in her locker." Then stuff about a magazine... I didn't want to listen to her, no, not about that---

I was already moving towards her locker, just behind her back.

"Can I have mine back?" I'd asked. I was now officially being a creep. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but what the fungi am I supposed to say? This stupid jeans buisness... It's like a disease!

She was ashen now; I didn't blame her. Urgh, this was so the wrong direction to take this...

There was a glimmer of hope when she handed me the jeans, like I'd reached some kind of nicer conclusion, like she'd possibly misunderstood me...

I hadn't, and neither had she. I sucked in a breath: this was it, the final blow.

I had to shove her jeans back at her like they were infectious--- damn. The one thing I could do to top of what a jerk I was being.

Still, the guilt wasn't reaching me like it should. It's not like I'd been pampered and spoiled and loved all my life... I'd learned to adapt to a kind of emptiness. Other people should to. Sorry, Jen, but that's what happens when you get mixed up with someone like me.

A couple girls were talking down the hall. I looked at them anxiously, checking around me, still clutching my jeans... I should have just taken them home... I should have dropped the whole thing then and there...

I watched Jennifer and the other girl walk away, still mortified.

I should have taken the jeans home.

I should have dropped it.

But...

I threw the jeans in an open locker and slammed it shut, turning away.

It was a random locker... Totally random...

Heh. I wish.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay," Simone said, "let me get this straight."  
Get ready, folks... Kade is back, and I'm giving into cruddy openings. The next day before school, (wince), I'm a little ashamed to say riding in Seth's car seemed a teensy bit dull, and when I tried rolling down the window, he just snapped at me saying he couldn't hear the music. I just like a little breeze in my hair, that's all.

(Or a little breeze in someone else's hair...)

But even Seth's miraculous _softening-up_ to me in the parking lot had been whiped totally from my mind, along with everything else from the day before, when Simone and I had opened my locker.

Would this ever end?  
But then I remembered, in horror, as I stood there, holding the newfound jeans this time bundled close against my chest... that they weren't newfound at all. They were totally recognizable.

They were just the same jeans I'd gotten in the first place, the same ones to start this whole mess, the same ones I'd thrown randomly into a girl's locker.

Which, Simone and uncovered for me later, had been Jennifer's. Nice.

I thought that would for sure get the jeans disposed of; if Jennifer got her hands on them, I'd never get them back. I hadn't thought about Jace forever, and he hadn't gotten a hold of me... I was beginning to fear the jeans weren't even his. I was beginning to _know_ that.

Even still, I'd been sure that when I'd chucked the jeans into a random locker, Jennifer's locker, that I'd never see them again.

Yet here they were, back to haunt me.

I couldn't decide how I felt about it.

Simone stood with me now, eyeing the jeans with a concentrated expression. She was trying to sort out all this crazy confusion herself; she had a better shot at it than I did, that's for sure.

"These jeans... you've seen them before."  
"Yes," I said firmly, nodding. "There were the first ones I got."  
"And... you have no idea where they came from?"  
I sighed.

"Not anymore..."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Nothing. Continue with the checklist."  
She grimaced in confusion, then continued.

"Recently, you threw them into what we know now to be Jennifer's locker."  
"Yes."

"And now they're back."  
"Yes."  
She grimaced harder, studying me. I didn't like it.

"What?" I tried to avert my gaze, but it didn't work. She was like something I'd done wrong nagging the back of my mind.

"Whoever started this is certainly giving you a hard time," she said slowly.

Peh. Like, I totally didn't catch that part!

"Whether intentionally or unintentionally escapes me," she continued, ignoring my exasperated expression, turning to lean her back on the locker door beside mine.

"Well, whatever this is," I said, gesturing the jeans, "it's gone on long enough. I'm not even sure I'm appreciating it anymore. It's getting more annoying than flattering."  
"That's only because you haven't found the right guy," she said. When I glared, she quickly amended.

"I mean, you haven't figured out who gave them to you."  
I sighed, still irritated.

"Maybe not."  
"He's sure patient: _that_ we know. That should flatter you."  
'He must have seen me put the jeans in Jennifer's locker, or how else could he have gotten them and put them back in mine? And how the heck did he get in mine in the first place? Too many questions!"

I growled, rubbing my temples.

"Well, your locker was open at lunch yesterday," Simone pointed out. "Remember? You'd been putting something inside when I'd called you into the lunch line, and you mentioned you still had your door open."  
Doh! "Right!" I said, face-palming myself. "I remember... so he obviously did it then. The timing is kind of coincidental, don't you think? How often are you around the exact locker you need right when it's open?"  
Simone smirked. "Love will find a way."  
I frowned. "Shut up. I'm gonna pound this kid when I find out who in the world he is."  
Simone chuckled, stepping up from the lockers as the bell chimed, muffled over the buzzing of teenagers talking throughout the halls. The noise maximized as they all moved to get to their first class. Simone shot me a sympathetic yet slightly mischievous smile.

"Have fun," she said, saluting me, and I couldn't tell whether I found that encouraging or just maddening. I watched her disappear into the crowds, navigating like a natural... then stuffed everything I didn't need--- the jeans, as a prime example--- into my locker and set off on my own in the opposite direction.

---------  
I got to Kohlan's early, just because my anxiety of seeing Zane again had grabbed me by the belt and hurled me from my B1 class. Ah, well. Better early than late; less Juniors staring at me like I was a slug from outer space.

I sat swiftly at Kohlan's desk, trying my best to disappear behind the computer, trying, trying, trying not to watch the door every half-second incase Zane walked in... Kohlan himself was leaning against the far window sill as always, still massaging his lips like he missed his smokes. I felt a swell of pride for him, but quickly glanced away when his eyes shifted to meet mine.

I stared at the computer screen: the usual class list sang up against my retinas; blinking, I scooted the chair back a bit from the desk, just in consideration of my sight, and caught a flicker of familiar movement near the back of the classroom. Dreading, elated, and pinching myself for being such a gosh dang girl, I glanced up as discreetly as I could.

Zane maneuvered to his seat with his head down, and I was surprised as I analyzed his figure. All right, I admit it, I'd been expecting to see the same babe I'd seen on Friday, not to mention last night at the festival, but... he let me down. I tried not to be too disappointed.

His sweater was back: black this time, zipped halfway up his chest to leave his breast open, this time wearing a mellow navy shirt. The neckline was ripped, like most of his other shirts, exposing the hollow in his throat.

(My, my, are we getting into detail...)  
Just records, pixie, now stop giving me crap.

He didn't catch my eye as he plopped down into his desk, sprawling his long legs out across the carpet and leaning back in the chair. I skimmed over other traits of his person I regularly saw: his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the healing scrapes on his forearms, the thick, long, black bangs hanging like walls around his ears and brow... Yep, the normal Zane was back.

Though I could hardly say I preferred it to the motorcycler...

Still--- and maybe biased isn't the right word--- but that experience of seeing him in another light was messing with his image now. I had to compromise with his usual look. I'd probably never see his motorcycle look again.

I sighed, disappointingly disappointed, and decided once I got to look in his face, he'd start cooking.

Hee, hee... It's so fun letting yourself think that way.

Though, okay, I'll save my dignity and make this clarification: I'm a girl, a sixteen-year-old girl to be precise, and it's just my nature to chase after pretty faces. But that's not the the only reason the Zane yesterday had appealed so much. He'd not only looked different, but he'd _acted_ different too. He _was_ different, a whole new person. He'd smiled (well, smirked, but coming from him, it's like a beam) ten times more than I'd ever seen him smile in school, and he'd even laughed, somewhere around the end when he'd popped the wheelie. (Maniac.) It seemed that he'd opened up a lot wider to me, had let me in a little more.

I was hoping that peticular trait wasn't going to vanish as fast as his look had.

The bell rang, and the class quieted, kids shifting towards the front in their seats, laughter dying down as the jokes passed. I looked at the computer screen instantly, worrying that Zane would now be looking towards the front too...

Kohlan sat up from the window sill and began lecturing as always, something about consumer science... what was this class' subject again? I let my eyes meander, anywhere but Zane, (search me), praying Kohlan would give me something to do.

About ten minutes passed. Kohlan wrapped up an explanation on that day's assignment, dooming me the responsibility of passing out the worksheets. He took a few tired strides towards his desk, lifting his fingers to caress his lower face as usual.

"Miss Waters, will you please distribute a single paper to every student?"  
I swallowed, nodding, and standing from my seat, picked up a stack of newly-printed white worksheets. Zane's desk would be the first one I would approach.

I counted out five papers to be passed down and set them right where I knew I would, near his wrist laying lifelessly on the top of his desk. He glanced up at me as I did, as if surprised the papers were there in the first place---

I read his eyes, and I could tell that wasn't what had made him look up at all. I felt a twinge of guilty pleasure as I assessed his features in that frantic instant: it was totally biased, again, not to mention dreadfully shallow, but he seemed... more attractive today than any other time at school.

At school.

See, I can admit to things!

(I'm proud of you.)

Thank you.

(Eghk, we're getting along again--- quick, make a contradicting statement.)

You're right--- Uh... um---

(Hurry up!)

I'm thinking, give me a second!

(The moment's passing! Spoil it!)

Well, what do you want me to say, he's ugly?!

(You dim wit, you've been ten times this stubborn in the past, you can think of something!)

Ugh. Sorry about that. Anyway, I decided a small smile wouldn't totally ruin anything we'd constructed, would it? So I gave him the brisk, friendly-slightly-flirty-corner-of-the-mouth--- well, yeah, you get it. With the eyes, and the--- yeah. I think I did better at it than I give myself credit for: he didn't look at me like I was a cyclopes. He just met my eyes, not smiling, but not frowning either. Just looking at me. Hey, it was approachable!

I felt slightly more cheerful as I passed out the rest of the papers, though I think the girl sitting next to Zane had noticed our tiny exchange. She watched me with this evil-eye as I continued down the rows. I winced in confusion, trying to shrug off any mistake I'd made--- sorry I smiled at my friend! Yeesh! As I moved back to Kohlan's, I saw her watching Zane with a hopeful smile but he never caught it.

When I sat back down at Kohlan's desk, he muttered an acknowledgment and asked if I'd take the roll next. Sighing, I went to the keyboard, bringing up the class list and, of course, hitting Zane's name first. The names weren't only alphabetical but also listed according to the seating arrangement, so either way, I knew I'd have to glance at him first.

I peered around the computer screen, and he was already looking at me. I smiled briefly, like the stupid girl I am who is always flattered when boys look at her, boys that are relatively cute and good on motorcycles, even boys who she doesn't even, you know, _like_--- sorry. I tend to rant.

In short, there was a glint in his gaze that made me hold it, like there was something he was trying to tell me. I'll bet any girl would pay some hefty dough to have a guy look at her with this kind of intensity: it was like frustration, or some stressed thought-process. And concern. He was... regretful? Worried? It was hard to pin point, but it was certainly there; it was inevitable. I was doomed to stare at him like an idiot until he gave me what he needed to give me.

He held up a finger, and slipped a peice of paper from his loose folder. Flipping out a pen from his sweater pocket, he began scribbling something, an intro...

He shook his head and flipped the paper over, not bothering to catch my eyes again. I think he was mulling over a decent way to phrase whatever he was thinking. When he rested his forehead in his hand, I knew he was done for the moment. Slightly disappointed, I went on with the roll.

On finishing, I let my eyes stray back to him. He was drawing circles on the back of the scratch paper, cradling his temple in two fingers... the stressed look in his eyes was still there. What was up? It felt like an itch: The more I watched him roll it over in his mind, the more I wanted to know.

But when the period was over, he was up and out of the classroom before I had a chance to whisper his name.

I didn't see him again for the rest of the day.

---------

As always, the day passed in a blur. All my classes were just routine. April was here, the end-of-year chills were already starting to populate the hallways. Even though it was months away, summer felt like it would burst through the sky any minute, ending school once and for all. That distant fact seemed to overshadow everything else.

Before I knew it, Seth and I were pulling up into Gran's driveway. I didn't remember the conversations Simone, Holden, and I had had back at lunch, or any other time... I was really out of it.

Seth eyed my dazed look like I was a stink bomb about to erupt, and hurried into the house, leaving me to get out of the car at my own pleasure. The last time I hadn't spoken a word on the way home from school, I'd burst into woman's fury the instant he'd brought it up. He probably didn't want to play his chances again.

But he didn't need to take precautions. I wasn't really in that kind of mood.

I sauntered through lunch and dinner, until six o' clock rolled around, where I forced myself to lolly-gag through my homework. Gran and Seth were arguing over DVDs to watch while I waited still in the kitchen, just thinking, not really doing anything. Right when I needed him, (sarcasm), Seth stuck his head around the corner, eyeing me warily but a little more easily since dinner.

"You gonna watch with us?"  
"What are you watching?" I grimaced at his incorrectly structured sentence.

Woah, what? Since when did _that_ bother me? Since when did I speak any better?  
"Final Fantasy: Advent Children," he replied smugly.

I scowled harder.

"How in the world did you get Gran to sit and watch _that_?"  
Seth lifted an eyebrow mischievously.

"I showed her Cloud Strife in his new-and-improved graphics... She's pretty much hooked. Got her hair on and everything."  
I snorted.

"Ugh. No thanks."  
"What, you don't think computer-generated Japanese guys are hot?"

"No, actually, I'd prefer someone real, thanks. Otherwise it's all just a waste of time, isn't it?"  
I sighed, striding quickly from the kitchen. He watched me leave, puzzled.

It wasn't fun being glum; on an average evening I would have probably accepted his offer in a heartbeat, drooling all over the TV screen at Square Enix's mid-twenties heroes... I guess it wasn't my night. I decided what I wanted was fresh air. I wanted air rushing past me, through my hair... But to do that, I obviously would have to be traveling much faster than at simple walking pace...

I plucked a jacket from the front room, tying it around my waist, and headed out into the evening.

"Hey, wait, where are you going?" Seth demanded, racing to the door.

"Just for a walk," I said, melancholy, shooting him an annoyed look. "I'll be back in half an hour."

"Half an hour," he repeated, frowning. "I'm not coming out there looking for you."  
I sighed, crossing the lawn, and waiting until I heard the door click shut before stepping out onto the road.

It was near twilight, so a blue haze had settled in the air like a veil. It didn't do well for my mood. I folded my arms over my chest, squeezing my hands into frustrated fists, and set off in a random direction down towards Holden's house.

I wasn't going to _go_ there; as much as I wanted to believe he could cheer me up, I really just had to admit I wanted to be alone. So I didn't feel much guilt when I passed his house by like a broken offer.

The street stayed true to the beach, always following sand now silver in the evening light. The ocean was calm: my steps were accompanied by the slow breathing of receding waves. They churned as if talking to one another, one end of the beach raising a notion and the other replying. I syncopated my steps with their hiss, and it slowed my pace but set me somewhat in tune with something I loved, something that could make me happier. I wasn't unhappy; honestly, I didn't quite know what I was feeling. Just down, I guess. It was a down day. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe I should have stayed at home and gone to sleep. Egh. Whatever.

Ten minutes... I followed the road, like I could just follow it back to get home. Really, I knew it wasn't that simple. I should have paid closer attention, trying to keep in the neighborhood. And for the most part, I did.

Ten more minutes... Seth would want me home soon. I'd wandered far enough, it would take about half an hour just to get back to our street. My feet were starting to hurt; I never walked just to walk. The pits of my knees were aching too. I wanted to sit down, but somehow it didn't happen. I just kept moving, like my airwalks had a mind of their own. It was really irritating.

A breeze picked up as I approached an empty four-way stop. I begrudgingly threw on my jacket, but found myself grateful I'd brought it in the first place... Five more minutes... I really should be heading back now...

"Augh! No way!"

Laughter rumbled up the street, carried by the breeze. It was coming from down my right; they were awfully close to the corner. I stepped back a bit from the street lamps, lit now to provide a little extra light. It had gotten really dark, enough so that I'd had to depend on them being there.

The voices grew closer, laughter blending with words. My anxiety grew too.

A pack of boys, as tall as Seth, maybe older than him, all congregated together at the four-way stop, lounging on the corner across the street from where I stood. There were about five of them: four formed a semicircle around the fifth, like a legion of henchmen or bodyguards protecting a celebrity. The fifth, proud and center, was the tallest but for one, one who's shadow was monstrous in the light of the lamp post they stood beneath. But even his size didn't dominate the center boy, hands shoved into the pockets of his long jeans, a smirk in his very posture that seemed to sing _leader_, _leader_, _leader_...

Their conversation was just muddle, until one voice stood out from all the rest: one hauntingly and delightfully familiar.

"Hey, Kade!"

My face burned like there was a temperature knob on my forehead. Right now, it was probably at 'volcanic'. The blush was spreading to every inch of my skin, my heart giving my rib cage a massage... and there wasn't really anything I could do about it.

Jace's wicked smile was crystal clear even from our distance. I glanced frantically around me, amazed I could even move. I realized I was standing right in the center of the lamp light. Smooth, Kade. I thought I'd been keeping to the shadows! It wasn't long before I had to look back at Jace; he looked devastating in the yellow light, like some bronze angel.

(Here we go...)

Rrrh, quiet!

Jace flipped his bangs across his brow, clearly just out of discomfort, but he didn't know what he was doing: they'd been sinking into his eyes, shimmering waves of brown-gold. The smirk on his lips sparkled in his dark eyes as he shifted his weight and spoke again.

"What's up, kid?" he asked, and he didn't need to shout anymore; the street was quiet, and his cronies had fallen silent too. There wasn't anyone else out as far as I could hear or see. What time was it?

At any rate, I couldn't really hear my voice over my own pulse, and I think I had pretty much smiled my face into two shreds of flesh hanging off my head. I could just giggle and try to sound intelligent.

Ugh, what was _wrong_ with me around this guy...?

"N-nothing," I stammered, laughing like an idiot. "I--- didn't expect to see you here!"

"Hey, likewise," he said casually, taking a step forward and cocking his head fondly. The light fell on the curve in his throat... I gulped, realizing his shirt was only buttoned at his breast, leaving his tightly structured abdomen visible like an exhibit... When I looked back at his face, his smirk had turned softer into a smile... I was going to be sidewalk putty by the time this was over.

"Why don't you come hang out with us?" he asked, his smile mischievous. I blinked, trying to organize the words to make sense in my head. This dream, asking me, this _kid_, really, out to hang... wait, what? No, that didn't happen...

I checked over my shoulders like a complete moron. I was going to get whiplash, trying to make myself believe he was talking to some diva in the shadows behind me. Someone that would make sense next to him.

"Erm---" I forced out a laugh, probably sounding like a dying horse. "I--- eubgh--- sure! S-sure, yeah, whatever, I--- are you---"

"C'mon," he said, nodding towards his buddies and motioning with a bronze hand.

I wet my lips: the sight of them all left me a little intimidated. They were partially in the light, so I got a glimpse of their figures, but their faces were more than less in the dark... I made out the frame of the only girl, wearing long, baggy pants and a cream-colored tank-top; her hair was cut shorter than Simone's, but sporting the same style, spiked out from her ears, with brown and scarlet streaks back-to-back all around her head. She was at Jace's left, closer to his side than the others. Farther at his back, the rest were boys. Two were shorter than Jace, one the same height, and the last the large, round shadow that was at least a head taller than my _dad_. They were all dressed like I expected: they were his skater friends, no doubt. Tight pants, tight shirts, shoes bigger than their heads, rugged hair styles... the usual.

Still, they were like a whole other deal. A walk alone with Jace, hey, I'll take it. He was a good kid. But these guys... they definitely looked more like henchmen than buddies.

Jace motioned again, sensing my hesitation.

"C'mon, we don't stay out too late," he assured me.

This was received by snickers from the boys behind him. The girl smiled gently, yet there was a flicker of intent in her eyes as she moved forward to lay an elbow on Jace's shoulder. My throat lumped and I scowled--- hmph. Well, at least I didn't see her clinging to him at school like all those other brainless fangirls of his.

(Hey, guess what: I looked up 'hypocrisy' in the dictionary, and I found your picture underneath.)

OUR picture. And what are you talking about? I'm not being a hypocrite!

(Mmmm hmmm...)

Just stay out of this!

I sighed in exasperation to myself and set off firmly across the street. Jace smirked wider as I approached, not showing his teeth, just sleek, smooth lips twisted in satisfaction.

Augh, it fit him so well...

As I approached, I caught glimpses of his buddies' faces. The girl's chin was round and circular, her nose small and stubby and her eyes large like nickels, coated in eyeliner and magenta eyeshade. I tried to avoid her stoic, cold stare as I approached, not to mention ignore the fact that she'd slid her leg behind Jace and was pressing herself up against his back like a leech. I take back the brainless fangirl comment.

Meanwhile, two of the three regular-sized boys were smiling like they were totally zoned out. I was disappointed: I thought Jace would have more intelligent friends, seeing as he listens to Mozart on a regular basis. They both had rugged-slash-curly hair, one with his sweater hood halfway over his head. Pretty much simple skater boys.

I looked at the third, the one Jace's height, and felt something quiver uncomfortably in my stomach.

He was slightly dark, with a hard smirk on his face that was as ominous as Jace's was heart-melting. He was thickly built, sort of resembling Zane the day I'd met him on his motorcycle except about five times that: he wore a tight shirt outlining the muscles in his chest and shoulders and black gloves cut off at the knuckles. He cracked them now, muttering something to the dude next to him, glancing at me only briefly. His slick black hair was thin and perfectly straight like Holden's, parted down the center to let two styled walls hang on other side of his heavyset face. There was a still-healing bruise just above his eye, pressing his brow down slightly in a permanent glare. I shuddered and looked away.

The third boy wasn't a giant, just big for his age. He towered over Jace, a huge, round grin on his balloon cheeks. Chubby arms lay sleeveless at his sides, and a bear-like belly bulged from his loose belt. Despite it all, the smile on his face and the twinkling in his eye was a little endearing. I found myself smiling at him, the first other person besides Jace. He grinned back, showing lumpy, squarish teeth.

"Hey," he said in a rumbling voice. Jace chuckled.

"This is Packard," he said, motioning his massive comrade. He turned his thumb then to the others, going a little too fast for me to match name with face.

"Stephanie, David, Steven, and Harrison."

My eyes skimmed over the rest and stopped again on Harrison. His sharp eyes didn't meet mine, but focused on adjusting the fingers of his glove. I swallowed and looked back at Jace.

"Erm---" I smiled dumbly again, not sure what to say. Jace just grinned, nodding down the street.

"Let's go; we're picking up another friend, he lives just a few blocks down."  
I nodded, but felt internally panicked; a few blocks down? That would take us near the city. I tried not to be irritated, hoping Seth wouldn't get too angry.

Forget Seth. This was what I wanted to do; he didn't have anything to do with it.

I nodded, making sure to keep as close to Jace and as far from Harrison as modestly possible, and let them lead the way. (Stephanie had slinked over to Jace's other side.)

The sun had now officially set; it would have been pitch-black if not for the street lamps every block or so, stationed at the corners. As we walked, Jace and his buddies talking boy talk and laughing, I was content to just stay by Jace's side and watch the houses change. We were straying from the beach now, farther up the "hill" that was dropping into regular elevation, so they became more and more normal until the sound of the beach couldn't really be heard: we were in town now. I could hear the moans of distant cars, far off on some unseen street, probably pulling up at franchises for a midnight snack. It felt that late, looked that late, but I was sure it wasn't. I hadn't been out long...

I wasn't keeping track of time anymore. Jace was asking me questions and I was answering like the loser I was, laughing and probably wigging them all out. I could just feel the exasperated looks beating into my back like the afternoon sun. Great. I kept looking at Jace for refuge: he would just smile, nodding, laughing when I did. Oh, he was so awesome... My heart just throbbed whenever I looked at him...

(Ugh. Can we have an intermission please? I need to vomit.)  
You know you're just jealous you don't have control of the body.

(For now, my friend...)

The ache in my legs was gone. I felt like I could walk forever. A handful of minutes passed by as we strolled down a few more blocks. Was it eleven? Eleven thirty? Oh, it didn't matter... What had happened? What was _going_ to happen? Seth seriously wasn't go be so much of a brat to actually hunt me down, and even if he was, he was probably too lazy, or engrossed in some chat circle online or something he would be interested in. He was watching a movie with Gran. That's right, he was setting up a date between Gran and a computer-generated hot guy. So Seth... As if it would cross his mind I was even gone in the first place.

And Jace would walk me home. I knew it now, just looking at him. If the rest of his friends hated me, it didn't matter. He cared about me; he appreciated my effort to be a part of the fun, and he welcomed more just by smiling.

Finally, we turned onto a different street than I'd seen before. Instead of there being two rows of houses divided by a road, the second half was chopped off, and from there rolled a great green hill, down and out west, all the way to...

The beach. It spilled out like we were on an island. The Pacific was everywhere. I'd never seen so much of the ocean in such a local area. I stared at it, amazed, while Jace turned to murmur to his buddies.

"Look at this!" I breathed, reaching back for Jace's sleeve. I felt him beside me, and was instantly warmed. It was hard to believe I ever needed my jacket now that he was around.

"Yeah," he said, smiling as I was out at the water. "It's cool, isn't it? I live just a few blocks from here, but the view stays the same. For miles, there's no 'across-the-street' neighbors, just this."  
"Wow," I said. It was all I could say. "That's so awesome. Do you go out in the water just every day?"  
He chuckled.

"My dad's crazy about boating, wave-surfing, you name it. That's why we moved up here, just for him to finally reward himself..."  
He trailed off, his face hardening. I looked at him cautiously.

"What's up?"

He shook his head, still grimacing.

"Nothing, he just... He lost his job. You know the Fire Lord?"  
I felt myself suddenly get colder. I immediately thought of Zane.

"Yes. Ashborne?"  
Jace scowled harder at the name, almost smiling in disgust.

"Yeah. Whatever. He just demolished the place my dad worked; pretty much everyone living in this region just lost employment."  
My gut twisted. How had I gotten so close to Zane and forgotten all this?

No, no, that's stupid. As if Zane has anything to do with it. C'mon, Kade, you're smarter than that.

"I'm so sorry, Jace."  
He shrugged bitterly.

"Well... we'll manage. I guess we're just going to have to go out-of-state. So much for the water; might as well enjoy it while it lasts."

I bit my lip, wanting to touch his hand or something, but both were shoved securely in his pockets. I grimaced at the inconvenience but then looked out at the ocean, disciplining myself.

Keep him guessing. Keep him on his toes.

(Oh, don't worry about it, you haven't been overly obvious!)

Shut up.

Jace sighed, and I was drawn to him like a magnet. He smiled at me, and it was the umpteenth time I'd almost become liquid cement.

"So---" I swallowed, trying to catch my breath, "does your friend live here?"  
He cocked his head as if confused.

"Hm?"

"You said you were coming here to get a friend," I persisted a little dizzily.

He smirked, his eyes darkening.

"Ah, yeah... He just lives right there."  
He jabbed his thumb to the houses before us, the only string of homes before the land was chopped off into beaches. I looked at the one he indicated. Already, the others, lead by Packard and Harrison, had started spreading out over the lawn, like they were cats just slinking around in a junkyard. I studied them for a moment, lost, as they just continued meandering as if they served no purpose.

"What's his name?" I asked, hungry for more of his voice.

He chuckled low in his throat, and moved to my side. I heard his hand slide free of his pocket, only for my heart to nearly stop beating when he draped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me gently into the pocket of his shoulder. I felt every last pinch of breath leave me. All I could register in my head was the smell of his shirt, the endless warmth of his arm.

"Doesn't matter," he murmured, his breath intoxicatingly close, but I was so far lost in him now that I couldn't really remember the last thing I'd said.

Trying to recover my brain, I looked across the street at the house. It was gray and simple, two stories with a plain porch and a small, neatly tended garden around the edges. Jace's buddies wandered about on the lawn, hands in their pockets, snickering to eachother and peering in the windows.

"What are they doing?" I asked curiously, working hard to keep the suspicious tremor from my voice.

And then there was something I hadn't heard before in Jace's.

"They're letting him know we're here."

Packard and Harrison were the ones I really watched: concern was growing in the pit of my stomach as they meandered to the corners of the house. Long, drain pipes lined the wall upward to the roof, where they connected with the rain gutters. Harrison glanced at Packard, nodding, a smirk on his harsh face.

My stomach churned.

Peter and Harrison both seized the drain pipes in viselike grips: with all ten fingers, they were definitely the strongest of the group. Setting a foot as support against the wall of the house, they rattled the drain pipes like they were shaking someone awake. The empty clanging echoed up the walls of the house. I felt something squirm near my navel. They smirked, letting the clatter ring, and after a moment, seized the pipes to shake them again, just as fiercely.

Jace chuckled and my body temperature dropped considerably as he unwound his arm from my shoulders, stepping forward and walking casually towards the home, leaving me alone in the middle of the road.

I watched now in fright as Stephanie and David joined Jace's side, handing him something they'd picked up from the small, snake-like garden hugging the base of the house. Jace took them, juggling them in a single hand, scanning the house with a tilted gaze.

And then he reeled back one hand and threw something as hard as he could up towards the highest window.

I knew instantly what it was: the stone struck the window harshly, banging like a hammer on metal. Harrison and Packard chortled, stepping away from the house as the stone dropped noisily back to the grass.

I felt like I wanted to shout something, but nothing was coming out. I was just frozen, watching helplessly, as Jace pulled back the same arm again, throwing another stone right for the same window.

This time, it nearly ruptured. I heard the squealing of glass straining, still holding together, but definitely bent to break. I watched a pattern of fractures sprout like a spider-web from where the rock had hit. Harrison laughed loudly, joined by Jace's chuckling.

"Jace?" I couldn't believe I had a voice. What in the world was he doing?!

Stephanie hurried to Jace's side, clutching his bicep and muttering something in his ear while Harrison and David stalked off again towards the gardens to collect more rocks. Steven hung back on the edge of the lawn, joined a minute later by a snickering Packard.

Jace laughed at something Stephanie said... I felt ready to vomit. In horror, I watched Harrison jog back to Jace, dumping in his waiting palms two more handfuls of stones. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out, AGAIN. I still couldn't move; I swore at myself, telling my legs what would be left of them once I was through with them, but they still wouldn't budge.

My heart stung as Jace drew back yet another arm, and threw what was sure to be the final blow. This time, to my utter relief, it missed it's mark and bounced off the sill, but a loud _bang _echoed through the unbelief that was becoming the air I breathed.

A light flew on behind the window. They, Jace and his sick friends, had apparently gotten what they wanted. They burst into acknowledgment, jeering, whooping, you name it.

Jace clicked his tongue, smirking from ear to ear, holding out his arms in a welcoming guesture.

"That's right, right out here, let's talk."  
I took a step forward, forcing myself to move.

"Jace!" I yelled.

"Yeah?" he laughed over his shoulder--- and I wished I hadn't seen his face. It wasn't the Jace I knew. He was... someone else now.

"What are you doing?" But my voice had dried weaker and weaker until by the last word, there was nothing at all, just breath frozen halfway through my throat.

I suddenly thought of Seth.

Oh, no...

The porch light flipped on. I jumped, watching in terror, praying this wouldn't end how I feared---

The door opened. A figure stood in the entry way, behind the new light, watching Jace and the others as they cheered his arrival like the disgusting hooligans they were.

"Ashborne!" Jace laughed, holding out his arms wider. "About time! We're almost done packing, I was afraid we wouldn't get to thank you for screwing our lives!"

And then, it was like the end of nightmares, right when you wake up: that last awful feeling, the icing on the cake, the kiss of death, before your eyes burst open and you lay there gasping on your pillow...

Zane moved into the light, glaring death down at his visitors.

"Anything else you want to say?" he asked icily.

Jace cussed so venomously I cringed and wished I hadn't heard it. His cronies roared with laughter.

"Where's your uncle, Ashborne?" Jace asked with mock sincerity, dropping his arms, and then his tone turned babyish. "Whewe's yo wuncoh?"   
"Sorry," Zane said nastily. "He doesn't waste time with delinq's like you. He's a little better than that."  
"Ouch," Jace said, clutching his heart. "That must hurt. Obviously he doesn't give a damn about you either, does he? I see _you_ out here wasting time."  
"You're right," Zane hissed back. "Maybe I don't need him."

Jace snorted. Harrison cackled.

"You such trash, Ashborne," Harrison scoffed scathingly. "Betcha your daddy knows it. Is that why he sent you here? That must suck, being disowned like that."  
I could see Zane trembling; I'd never wanted to scream more in my life.

"Doesn't matter if his daddy doesn't want him," Jace drawled. "Not like he _does_, but Zaney can't complain: you get to ruin lives on your own now, don't cha? Such a big boy!"

The gang burst into laughter. Zane was shaking like he was running a jackhammer. My eyes stung with furious tears. Who--- who was this? Was this Jace? Had he completely forgotten I was here? How could he do this to someone?  
Oh, Zane... Can you ever forgive me for being such a complete _idiot_?

Jace was shaking his head now, looking at Zane with disgust.

"I always knew you were trash, Ashborne," he said through his teeth. "Ever since you were my _buddy_; you were good on a board, but man... that just didn't compensate for you siccing your daddy on us one by one, did it?"

"Yeah, whenever I get sick and vomit?" Zane said coolly back. "That's when I remember being in the same room with you guys. And as if I would waste time siccing anyone on _you_."   
"Jace!" I screamed, finally not able to hold it back any longer. Zane was the only one who looked up. I couldn't read his expression that well, the angle of his face didn't let much light touch his features.

"Yeah?" Jace said again, just like last time, like I was... I was...

I felt the tears sting my eyes and I bit them back.

No, no! You won't cry! You won't! NO!  
"What are you doing?" I shrieked.

"Get out of here, Kade."

It was Zane. I stared at him, horrified.

He was glaring at me, malevolent.

"You know her?" Harrison bellowed, hysterical. He threw back his head and laughed coldly.

"Awwww!" David cooed.

"Shut up," Zane snarled.

"Or what?" Harrison shot back, laughter gone in an instant. In it's place was a wicked smirk.

"Or whatever you want," Zane growled. "I turned you into dog crap once and I can do it again."  
Harrison's eyes flickered. I could see the fury rippling down his bulk.

Before anyone could react, he bolted for the porch. Zane tensed, bracing himself, ready to leap from the railing, but Harrison had already bounded up the cement stairs. Jace and the others burst into action. The whole situation was just a knife waiting to drop, and Harrison had been the one to finally break the ice.

"NO!" I screamed, jumping forward, but Harrison had already thrown Zane from the porch onto the cement walkway. Jace and Steven were over him now, fists and feet flying hard and fast. Jace locked Zane's neck in his arm and drove his head into the grass, holding him there, as Harrison ran forward to have his share in the beating.

"STOP IT!" It was useless. Zane was fighting back now, but he was dazed from the fall: he'd hit his head hard on the cement, and he was grossly outnumbered. I ran forward blindly, having no plan. No doubt I'd be a pulp faster than he would... maybe if I just was an obstacle, it would detract a portion of the damage. It was insane, but I'd start bawling like a baby before I stood by and did nothing.

But I never made it to the lawn. Stephanie grabbed my braid, jerking me back; before I could gasp in pain, she had my elbows locked in hers and was forcing me down to the grass.

"Sorry, your boyfriend is busy," she hissed in my ear. "And by that, I mean the Ashborne trash."

"Argh!" I fought as hard as I could, but she had me. "Let me go! Get _off_ of him!"  
I searched frantically for Zane--- it was dark, and the only light on Zane's porch wasn't enough to keep figures clear--- but then I found him. He was bent down on the grass, _he_ now holding _Jace_ in a head lock, growling as he squeezed harder and harder down on his neck---

Harrison took a swipe at his head, prying him off, while Jace collapsed into the grass, gasping. Zane stumbled, falling on his back as Harrison launched himself at his chest---

_BANG._

It was louder than the stones hitting the window sill, more abrupt and more terrifying than Jace's yells.

The fight froze. Every eye flew to the front porch.

A plump, bald man in trousers and a button-up plad shirt stood firmly on the front steps, a smoking rifle set ready against his cheek. He slapped the nose right in Harrison's direction, and spoke with a voice more furious than anything I'd ever heard.

"You get the hell off my nephew," he snarled, "and off my property! MOVE IT!"

Police sirens whined in the distance. Harrison leapt off of Zane like he'd burned him, breaking into a frantic run across the lawn towards the street. Steven and Packard followed close behind. I realized Stephanie had released me, and I watched, traumatized and utterly relieved, as she and David stopped to haul Jace to his feet before setting off desperately in Harrison's direction.

Jace turned to throw a curse about the Fire Lord over his shoulder; I worked to force it immediately from my memory. Their cussing faded in the darkness as they ran farther and farther down the beach, but all I could hear now was the turbo hammer of my heart about ready to smash through my chest. The blood in my head rushed to my eyes. I leapt to my feet and winced, running blindly for Zane, who was on his back in the grass, his knees bent, hands lifted to cradle his head.

"Zane---" I gasped, falling to my knees at his side, "Zane, oh, no--- Are you okay? Please--- I'm so sorry--- Zane---"

"I'm fine," he groaned, climbing to sitting position. I extended hands to help him but he waved me off. I heard his uncle bounding across the lawn towards us. I glanced at his gun, which he carried at his side. He caught my look, and whipped his wallet from his back pocket as he approached us.

"Don't worry, miss," he hushed gently, "I've got a license."

I noticed a short white beard around his chin, the urgent, fierce twinkle in his eye. There was something familiar about him... but it was too dark to discern peticulars. So I nodded, turning back to Zane, my heart still snapping my ribs one by one. The sirens were growing louder. My eyes were drawn away to the road where I watched, feeling dreadful, as flashing red lights screamed down the street towards us. The sound was almost as terrifying as Jace's words. I wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear, hide from all this.

Beside me, Zane's uncle was murmuring to his nephew in a frantic whisper. Zane was insisting he was okay, slowly working his way to his feet... I pried my eyes from the shrieking cars, looking to inspect Zane for myself: there was a large bruise under his good eye, his lip bleeding... My eyes stung harder than ever; I'd never worked so hard at forbearance.

Once he was steady in a stand, he turned his gaze on me, and it was harsh, furious.

"How the hell did you get involved in this?" he demanded hoarsely. Meanwhile, the police cars had spun up his driveway, screeching to a stop. Zane's uncle leapt to his feet and was shouting, "They went that way, down the beach-- Five of 'em!"  
I couldn't meet Zane's eyes. I stared at the grass, feeling hopeless.

"I was with Jace," I murmured, wiping frantically at my eyes--- "Zane, I'm so sorry---"

"I hope you are," he snarled, suddenly right in my face. I jumped, startled at how close he was. He grabbed my arms with a painful grip and shoved me back up against the garage door, glaring down at me with livid eyes.

"I hope like hell you are!" he yelled. "What were you thinking? Are you _insane_?"  
The tears finally squeezed free.

"You're right, you're right, I'm so stupid, I am... I had no idea... Oh, Zane..."  
His hands only tightened on my arms, jerking me so my eyes were bumped back up to his. Instead of fury in his gaze I found desperation, something much more softer but so much more scary, so much more heartbreaking.

"You're..." He took a deep breath and slowly his grip loosened. "I'm sorry. I'm just..."

He backed away, running both hands through his bangs. I slowly stepped after him, swallowing tears.

"You must have been really scared," he murmured.

"Just for you," I whispered back.

He shrugged carelessly. "I'm alive," was his bitter response.

The words stung me. I extended a hand feebly in his direction.

"You tried to tell me," I said coarsely, my voice bubbling in the effort to fight tears: tears of fury. "You told me Jace was no good--- you tired--- I didn't listen---"  
"You didn't know," Zane said softly, massaging the back of his neck. "You had no reason to believe me yet. No evidence. Now you do."

He wobbled slightly and I caught him by the shoulder--- like I expected, he shrugged me off almost instantly.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," he said gruffly. "It won't happen again."

"How can you be sure?"  
Zane looked at me, and his eyes were somewhere between anger and sadness.

"I'm moving, Kade."  
I blinked. Huh?

(He's---)

Shut up!

"What?" I sounded pathetic, but it was the only response I could think of.

"I'm moving tomorrow," Zane repeated grimly. "Guess they'll be happy now, won't they? Just don't get mixed up with them anymore; really, it's not that smart."

I felt like melting, but in a different sense. All the guilt I'd been too afraid to feel was flooding through me now, just by the gentle, yet rough tone of his voice.

"Wh..." I took a breath, trying to sound exasperated. "Why are you moving? Is it because of _them_?"  
I sounded angry now. Good. I tried shouting at him, but my voice wasn't strong enough. "Are you just going to _run away_?"  
Ugh, it sounded so stupid, so naive; as if I'd known all about this, as if I knew more than he did.

He just stared at me, almost glaring.

"I'm moving to compete," he said defensively.

I swallowed, turning red. Great. What do I do now?  
"You're--- You don't have too---"  
It was hopeless.

"KADE!"  
I jumped. A teal car squealed as it maneuvered through the four or five cops', coming to a shrieking halt in on the curb of the sidewalk. It was hauntingly familiar.

The passenger door flew open and Seth glared daggers at me from the front seat.

"Get in," he snarled. "Where the hell have you been?! I've looked all over town! There's cops everywhere--- get in _now_!"

It was like being the rope in a tug-of-war match. I looked instantly at Zane, and the strangest yank erupted in my stomach, as if I'd just lost something very special to me... something a relative gave me, something I'd been trusted with... and now it was gone. I was watching it go.

Strange, I know... I couldn't explain it.

Zane just glanced once at Seth and then turned his back to me.

"Good-bye, Kade," he muttered. "I'm not mad at you. I was scared for you. Sorry you had to see this."

"_Kade_ _Waters_!" Seth sounded on the verge of exploding.

I had no choice but to back up slowly until I felt the soft passenger seat under me, Seth's hands furiously buckling my seat belt, and the jerk of the car as we pulled from the curb, spinning, moving faster and faster away.


	14. Chapter 14: Superman

14: SUPERMAN

---

_Beautiful Soul Jesse McCartney_

I didn't sleep well that night, if I slept at all to begin with. Seth had given me the screaming of my life: Gran was furious too, but let him do the work, standing by and glaring with her steaming, beady eyes. When the worst of it had passed, Seth still barking the same things over and over again just in different phrasings, we'd gotten a call from Zane's uncle. I'll thank him eternally for what he said. I'd watched Gran's face soften from outrage into irritation as he basically set me in the clear. She was softer to me after that, and she then lapsed into the whole 'relief' cycle. But even when the gratitude for my well-being (physical, anyway) was expressed, she still seemed a little pissed like Seth was; whether at me or at the situation, I couldn't really tell anymore.

I guess Zane's uncle had looked us up in the phone book. It's not like Zane and I had been feeling dandy enough to exchange numbers.

That night, I'd sighed about a hundred and... forty-seven times. Out of exasperation, exhaustion... disappointment. I think my lungs were getting ticked at me too.

The next morning was close to worse.

It was like the entire student body had been there last night. Talk of the fight was everywhere. It was a plague, sweeping through the halls, some wildfire of gossip. I heard so many mistaken threads of the story I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream and slap them across the face and tell them to get it right--- yeah, whatever. Like I already needed more publicity. My role in the fight wasn't as highlighted, but it was definitely known. It was Kohlan's class multiplied into the entire school: now everyone was staring at me as if to suggest I'd gotten deformed plastic surgery. Some looked disgusted with me, others awed, some sympathetic, others flabbergasted. I tried to ignore all of it. Simone was tons of help, telling me to just pretend like 'you had no idea what they were talking about', and over time, it would all pass like it had never happened.

I hoped she was right.

But, _hello_!: Here I am wishing I wasn't thirty percent popular, when that was just the beginning of it. That was the _best_ side of it.

Neither Jace nor Zane was at school that day. According to their level of attention, they could have been celebrities convicted of suicide. It was that big. I thought by that afternoon, the whole state would know about it. Their absences were like the discovery of UFOs.

Okay, enough similes. Sorry, it's just hard to get this out---

The school was celebrating.

They were celebrating Zane's departure.

I was confused when I got past the horror and outrage stage: Aeva was still at the school. And worse, she was leading the celebrations. I'd known she was sick before, but this really just pulled the final thread. I could assume she lived with the Fire Lord--- were their parents divorced? Is that why Zane lived with his uncle? Either way, it didn't matter. He was gone, and the whole school was happy about it.

Argh! It was so _sick_! Couldn't they see that Aeva, the _real_ bad guy, was still _there_? That they were _befriending_ her? Of course she had made them all believe he'd moved because of the fight. Of course she'd put the whole situation in a light the students could devour like barbaric--- brainless--- augh! _The Fire Prince is gone! The Fire Prince is gone!_ I was about ready to burst! If it weren't for Simone patting my arm whenever we passed a group of kids scoffing about Zane's defeat, there would have been several bloody murders to account for!

Jace's case wasn't as bad as Zane, and this time my reaction was almost polar opposite. While everyone was shocked and worried about his arrest, I was simply overjoyed. His buddies, those that hadn't been involved in the fight, walked the halls like zombies, heads down, hands in their pockets, like shame was dripping off their shoulders. Peh--- serves them right. His fangirls, on the other hand, were distressed, whining his name, pouting all over the place... one was even crying. Ugh. I couldn't help smirking viciously whenever someone mentioned rumors about his punishment, and though I knew most were probably inaccurate, it was all the more beautiful to hear Jace and Harrison may be behind bars for a while. MAY. Let's not get our hopes up...

But even that, even feeling so sickly satisfied, I knew it was wrong. It was disgusting, watching myself be so smug, feeling this sense of vengeance... Though I tried to convince myself otherwise, it did nothing for my mood. I was still as ticked, still as disappointed and horrified, when I threw myself down into Seth's car and insisted he get me away from that sick place as fast as the law would allow.

I didn't want to know Seth's part in all the commotion. If he said one thing negative about Zane, there'd be nothing left of him but a pile of ashes and two blinking eyes. Jace was a different story... but I still didn't want to hear anything he had to say about it. I made that perfectly clear in the arrangement of my features, and after several wary and frustrated glances at my face, I think he got the message.

Homework, T.V., lunch, dinner... Soon it had been twenty four hours from the fight. Where had the day gone? No idea. I was in bed again just like last night, as if Seth had just finished screaming at me, as if that whole terrible next-day-at-school hadn't happened.

When I decided there wasn't any hope of my getting to sleep this early, (it was eleven thirty at night by the way--- 'shows you _my_ schedule) I rolled over to switch on an overhead lamp I had clamped to my bed post, then swung the same arm down blindly to grope under my bed for my journal.

When I felt the hard cover I drew it up lazily, snatching a pen from the night stand and working with a few grunts to adjust my pillows. When I could lean against them, I propped up my knees as a desk and just flipped through the pages, reading past entries, looking at old doodles... It hadn't been long before I came to the day where I'd fallen in love with Jace. I'd gone on and on about him, remember? Yeah.

_That_ was in shreds before I'd finished scowling.

Any other scrap of info about Jace that I could find was on the floor in pieces with all the others as the minutes flew by... It was a purge. I wracked every sentence for the slightest reference to his existence, the tiniest implications of my utterly stupid and unbelievably blind feelings...

The handle to my door turned; I'd forgotten to lock it. I instantly grimaced, feeling my stomach sink in guilt and annoyance---

"Seth, you can only be so---"

The door opened and it was Gran. I blinked. Well, this was new. She was all about letting a teenager have their "personal space", especially after ten. (Heh. Seth didn't inherit that.) I guess my behavior last night had changed her mind.

"Katydid?" she asked softly. "Can I talk to you two in the kitchen, honey?"

I nodded, a little dimly, snapping the journal shut and throwing it back under my bed. By 'you two', I assume she meant Seth and I. That was a good sign, right? This wasn't going to be some Sit-Down-And-Discuss lesson of life?

I prayed it wouldn't be.

As I followed her hobble down the hall, after we'd turned the corner, she paused to rap her knuckles on Seth's door. I could hear the tapping of a keyboard and the clicking of a mouse.

"Yeah?" he called sullenly.

"Rose called," Gran replied, and I recognized the name: Rose was one of her colleagues. "I need to talk to you and Kade."

A few more clicks... I wanted to snap at him, but then the door opened and he was there in his undershirt. He shot me one cold glance before stretching, yawning, and placing his elbow casually on the entryway.

"All righty. What's up?"

"In the kitchen, dope," Gran grumbled, starting down the hallway. "The computer'll live."  
He shot her a scowl and slouched after her, his pants unbuckled and low on his almost nonexistent hips. I waited for his tall, lanky figure to pass before immediately clutching my nose at the teenage boy smells that emitted from his disastrous room.

With the mention of Rose, my mood lifted slightly--- so this wasn't going to be about the fight. I couldn't have been more relieved: all I needed were more talks about how freakin' irresponsible I was.

Seth slipped a detour towards the freezer while Gran and I sat at the small table. I grimaced as he took his sweet time to select a carton of ice cream, the right spoon, then take a few test bites of strawberry before finally sitting down with us.

Gran eyed his choice of snack with a sort of exasperated hopelessness and then shifted her eyes to me in appreciation of my aptness.

"Rose called," she repeated, "and she's holding a convention down in San Clemente. It'll be all day; the entire schedule of next year is basically gonna be conceived in that shabby little room, so I've decided I'll take you kids with me. San Clemente's got nice little sights, and you can hang at the beaches all day if you want."  
"Hold up," Seth said, lifting his spoon like a finger. "When is this?"  
"Tomorrow," Gran said. "We'll be leaving at eight A.M. You'll miss a day of school... I hope that doesn't devastate you too thoroughly," she added dryly.

Seth traced an imaginary tear down his cheek with his finger and kept eating.

I sighed. "Anything to get away from that place."  
Gran grunted something about the American youth and their relationship with education while she shifted in her seat.

"Well, then, you kids pack a few things real quick and then get to sleep, eight is early."

"C'mon, Gran," Seth said, "we got enough motivation: skip out on school? I'll wake up at four."  
"Sure you will," Gran grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"This is in San Clemente?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, "about an... hour drive. Hour and a half."  
I nodded. Something was awake in my head, something I'd heard---

_I'm moving tomorrow._

Hm? Where does that fit in?

Oh, yeah, _right_. Like, the odds that he moved to San Clemente of _all_ places, and that we would just _happen_ to be going there the day _he_ was, and that we would just _happen_ to run into eachother...

Peh. Right.

"So," Seth said gruffly, "meeting adjourned?"  
"Yes," was her reply.

Seth shoved two more spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth, waiting for the opportune moment. As soon as Gran had her back turned, he tucked the carton under his arm and dashed for the stairs.

"Seth Hadley Waters, you get back here with that ice cream this instant," Gran growled. "You have a year's supply of junk food in that chaotic room of yours and I'm about to do something about it."

---------

The next morning, right at seven forty-five, I hurried to claim the bathroom before Seth could use up all the hot water. He once had this theory that the more steam he produced in the shower, the _hotter_ he was. That's Seth for you.

It was surprising that we were ready quicker than we all had expected, with time to spare. Gran was busy loading art pieces into the back of the car, insisting we eat breakfast instead of helping her out. Seth seemed fine with that, and greedily helped himself to more ice cream. I nibbled at some string cheese, watching him feed his face, until finally I couldn't hold it any longer. It had been building, like shame or something, and now it had to come out.

"Seth?" I asked gently.

"Meh?" he squawked. That was his intentional response to sincerity. I frowned and continued.

"Daffy Duck," I corrected bitterly, and then my voice softened, "um... I wanted to say sorry for my stupid behavior two nights ago. How I blew you off. And... thanks for going out to look for me. That... that's pretty cool."

Seth stopped with his mouth half open, ice cream melting on his tongue. He stared at me for a long moment like that, until he had to finish the bite or else it would all be chocolate soup dripping down his chin. When he finished licking his lips clean, still staring at me, he smirked. I felt a twinge of annoyance: had I been _too_ sincere? Heaven forbid...

"Wow," he said, eyeing me with amusement. "That was unexpected."  
I scowled.

"I'm so sorry to catch you off guard," I said nastily. "I won't bother in the future."  
He shook his head, holding up his hand.

"No, no, I mean, you're really serious."

He still sounded amused. I grimaced harder.

"Of course I'm really serious!" I snapped. "Do you think I _wanted_ to stay and hang with all those cops in the dead of night?"

Seth shrugged.

"Maybe not."

"So you're not accepting my thanks, is that it?" I asked him coolly.

He laughed.

"No. I'm just saying I don't really care about what you think of me."

My brow furrowed. "So, what, then?"

His face turned serene, and he came to sit at the table across from me. "I don't want to have to interfere like that again. That's the point, Kade. I wasn't being a hero. Heroics acts don't usually piss me off."

I stared at him.

"You get it?" he asked after a moment. "I just want you to be safe. What matters most is what you _learned_, not what I already _know_. You think I suspect situations and get all over your back for nothing?"  
I sighed. "No. Really, I get it now."  
"You're always getting pissed at me for keeping an eye on you," he said, and they were so much like what he'd bellowed at me last night, just softer and more controlled. "But what do I have from you that can tell me you deserve some slack?"  
"I know, I know..."  
"I'm not gonna sit here and pretend to be your superior. I know I do stupid things: I act stupid, I talk stupid, I'm stupid. I'm a teenager. Just like you. But I _am_ responsible for you, in a sense, and when you trip up, it's like I'm tripping up."

I looked long and hard in those blue eyes of his, just waiting for something to say.

"And I'm not afraid to say I love you, either," he said, and a smirk crossed his lips.

I grinned. "Good. 'Cause neither am I."

We smiled a moment longer, and then mine faded.

"I'm just sorry. Really. I was being such an idiot..."

"Well, sitting here crying about it isn't going to change anything," he said, and though the words were tough, his tone made them tender. "I gave you hell two nights ago really for my own satisfaction, and because you really needed it. But now you get the message. And as long as you do, my work is done, right?"  
"Yeah."

His disciplinary gaze softened and he sighed.

"And now I don't wanna talk about it anymore. We fight a lot about the little things, and that's okay. They won't ruin a family. But big things like this can, and will, if you let them. And that's the last thing I want."  
"Yeah. That'd'be stupid."  
"So just forget about it. Really. And by that I mean the incident and the people, not the lesson."  
I chuckled. "Mm, hm. I know."

Another moment of silence, and then...

"Now here's _your_ problem," I scolded. "Let me live, will you?"  
He looked at me intensely but I pushed ahead to elaborate.

"I appreciate the fact that you care about me, but come on, Seth, from now on, since I've learned my lesson, would you have some mercy one any boy I come within a twelve-foot radius of? Let me get a sense of my own judgment system, not just yours?"

His eyes hardened.

"Please?" I leaned across the table, and as his head rolled away, I leaned closer.

"Please, Seth? Come on."

He lifted an eyebrow regrettably, then sighed.

"I'll think about it..."

"All right, kids!" Gran called from the front yard: the door was wide open, letting the crispy scent of morning waft through. "Let's get this show on the road!"

"But if I have to deal with one more case of Jace Freeman..." Seth's hard eyes turned to a glare.

"You won't," I said firmly. "I'll be able to smell it from now on, it's got such a nasty stench."  
Slowly he took in my words, and then smirked.

"Fine. I'll think about it," he repeated, and then we stood.

And he swooped down with a surprise attack, draping his arm around my neck and digging his knuckles into my hair.

"Ow--- Ah--- hey--- Cut it out!" I fought his grip, but he just laughed, and bent low to plant a big kiss on my ear.

"Ah--- no, Seth---!"  
Too late. Smack. I pulled away even harder and this time he let me.

"Aw, I'll admit it," he said, "I'm relieved my sister's always getting in trouble. Could life be any more boring?"  
I snorted, unwinding what was left of my braid to redo everything.

"Yeah, I can only imagine a life with an angelic Seth."  
He laughed.

---------

The car ride was an eye-opening experience. Even though it only lasted about an hour and a half, there was so much discovered about the three of us. Never once since Seth and I moved here had we all been in the same car together. Talk about bonding!

Gran handed the steering wheel over to Seth, while she sat in the passenger seat and I sat in the next one back. Gran was intimidated by highways, and Seth was reckless, so it all worked out. She'd mutter directions I couldn't comprehend and he'd flip us around a corner, or ditch an intersection... I didn't know anything about the San Diego area, so I was impressed at how fluent Seth already seemed to be.

We passed the High School on the way out: it looked a lot more official on the outside, like a buisness H.Q. Weird. Kids were pulling up in their own cars; it was the prime time, the time when everyone arrived, especially Seniors. I could see them all congregating in packs along the front lawn... wow, we (teens) looked tall from out here, all these long giraffes sprawled out on the grass.

But the sight of the school, the student body, brought stabs to my stomach and I looked away, frowning.

When we _really_ entered town, the city was blazing with sunlight: franchises in every direction, huge buildings reaching up to the sky, streets infested with exhaust and the zooming snarls of cars. The trolley rang by, growling along the tracks, it's cheerful bell ringing as a touch of soprano over the air packed with noise.

But the bonding hadn't even started: it began when Seth turned on the radio.

Like all seventeen-year-olds, Seth skimmed over the stations before, while turning jerkily to the left, he found a nice scream-machine to listen to. The lead singer sounded like he was choking. The second Seth pumped up the volume, I could only imagine what kind of headache I would have when the trip was over, and how appalled and horrified Gran would be in the next five seconds.

I watched... This was going to be a fight to remember.

Gran stared at the radio for a moment, brow furrowing at the drastic head-banger, then looked up at Seth.

"You kids listen to this?" she yelled, only because it was so loud.

"Yeah," Seth said loudly back.

Gran looked back at the radio, and I was waiting for the storm to come.

Her eyebrows raised in consideration and she puckered her lips appreciatively.

"Hm. Not that bad."  
No way. I burst into laughter. Seth just grinned. Gran cranked it up a little higher and rolled down her window, leaning her head out and nodding it to the beat.

Whatever.

Seth started dancing in his seat too, grinning at Gran, but didn't miss a chance to let loose his tongue at the road rage.

It was hard to stop laughing.

The minutes rolled by. As we exited San Diego, the gas tank started to wane; Seth pulled over at a decent gas station just before we hit the highway.

"Yo, Kade, you want some jerky?" he asked as he unbuckled himself.

"I'll go in with you," I offered in response, jumping out faster than both of them. Gran stayed behind to fill the tank, ordering a strawberry Icee, while Seth and I went inside the Maverick.

It was cold inside, like most gas station store thingies, with white plastic floor that only seemed to reflect the A.C. up towards us. Seth left my side and went straight for the candy bars and soda. I meandered a bit, knowing he'd be debating over a King Size Twix and a Family Pack 100-Grand to the verge of tears. I wasn't that hungry, we'd only been on the road half an hour, but it would be nice to have something to munch on maybe at the beach or something. Gran had made it clear that most of our day would be spent there while she was at the convention.

The bell on the door chimed as more customers walked in. I shuffled through different bottled sodas, while over Seth's moans (I told you he'd be near tears) there broke a small boy's high, jubilant voice.

"Look! Look! Can we get it, please? _Please_?"

"Not today," a second boy's voice said, teenage, quiet and scratchy. Playful, yet familiar...

"Why not?" the smaller boy whined.

"Woah, what's _that_?" the elder suddenly exclaimed, faking awe in an effort to snag the younger's interest.

"_Woah_!" The younger gasped, his steps racing across the tile. I decided on a Fanta orange, my personal favorite, and made my way over in Seth's direction. As I passed the gap of one aisle, I caught the blurry shape of the young boy racing past towards the east end of the store. I passed the aisle, and not long later heard the older boy's steps in slow pursuit.

"You want that?" he asked. I knew that voice, I knew it... The tone was foreign, some brightness I'd never heard before, but the voice itself...

"Yes, yes, yes!" the smaller boy said jubilantly. I rounded the corner and found Seth drumming his fingers anxiously on the shelf, watching two candy-bars like he were watching the set time on two bombs slowly lower... 5... 4... 3...

"Made your decision?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't take this!" he moaned suddenly, right in my face. "Why do they have to place two such inhumanly delectable items side by side and expect you to chose one or the other?!"

"Shhhush!" I chided, glaring. "Don't be an idiot; it's _your_ money, get both!"  
He blinked, his face brightening.

"Oh, yeah, right!"

I sighed, shaking my head. The last time he'd spent more of Dad's money than necessary, he'd had this eternal fear of other people's credit cards. (Dad didn't hand out easy punishments...)

"You can get one more thing," the teenage voice said from the other end of the store, yet sound seemed to travel on these walls like blood through a vein, so I heard everything easily.

"One more?" The child sounded elated. His steps echoed more along the drink aisles, pausing in front of the freezers.

"I want the blue one!" he exclaimed at last. I smiled, guessing what he as looking at. Color was the only thing I'd ever seen in gatorade when I was younger, too.

"Are you sure?" the elder asked. "The red is a lot better."  
"It is?" He sounded skeptical.

"Definitely. The blue one tastes like medicine."  
"Ew! I want the red one!"

The slightest chuckle escaped the teenager's mouth, and I heard the humming of the freezer door as it opened.

Seth picked up his two babies and headed for the cash register. I followed after a moment of listening for more of the two boys. I was thinking they'd appear at the cash register... but they didn't. Not long after the younger one was satisfied, he had ran off after something else and now couldn't decide between the two. I smiled as we left the store, listening to the teenager's soft chides.

And we were back in the car, Gran waiting with a new dose of screamer radio.

---------

For the rest of the ride, I spent most of the time watching the city zoom by: it felt like we were on another planet. Even in my old age of sixteen, I hadn't been anywhere more heavily populated than Arizona or Texas; no big cities, just country, mostly. But San Diego! And now Clemente... Definitely another planet. Gran had told us a bit about San Francisco: she'd die to get us there someday. It was her favorite place. I was sure we'd be going there for Christmas or something. I knew she'd been hoping the convention would be held in San Francisco, but honestly, I liked San Clemente. It had tropical feel to it, like the whole city was on the beach.

Forty-five minutes passed, the heat of the day seeping in through the roof of the car despite our full-power A.C. Gran had switched off the A.C. half way through the drive, not wanting to suck up gas, and so all our windows were rolled down to let a fierce breeze in and fierce music out. Heads turned as we spun around corners. They were probably thrown off by the contradicting old woman in the passenger seat and the screamer coming out of her radio. But I thought it was awesome.

It occurred to me somewhere near the end of the drive that Simone and Holden didn't know where I was. Since I was an alien from Mars and didn't have a phone, or so other kids said, I asked for Seth's. I checked the clock; they could be getting out of first period by now. The only number I knew was Holden's: he'd given it to me aimlessly the first day we'd met. Flipping open the pad, I punched in his number and waited with the metal cool on my ear.

The hum of the ringing stopped abruptly, and the scratchy background sounds of a crowded hall answered before a voice did.

"_Hello_?"  
I'd know the voice's optimism anywhere.

"Hey, Holden, it's Kade."

I knew he'd be grinning.

_"Hey! Kade, what's up, where are you today?"  
_I was grateful he'd gotten right too it.

"I'm in San Clemente with Seth and Gran; she's got a convention to go to, so we tagged along for the beaches."  
_"Clever you. You missed the test in U.S. History."  
_I smirked. "Boo, hoo."

_"No kidding. So you gonna be back tomorrow?"_

"Regrettably," I sighed. "I'm enjoying a day off."  
"Hey, Katydid, who're you talking to?" Seth asked absently. It _was_ his phone, after all.

"Holden," I called back, wondering if I'd mentioned him before.  
_"What's that noise? Are you at the scene of a murder?"  
_I laughed. "Nah, it's the radio. Seth's music. Gran likes it, strangely enough."_  
"Go figure. _My_ grandma would probably have a heart attack."_

I laughed again, turning to look out at the passing palm trees intermixed with tall buildings.

"Well, I don't want you to be late for class, so I'll shut up now."  
_"Don't worry about it, hon, I got super-speed. See yah, Kade."  
_"See you tomorrow."  
I waited for him to hang up, just incase he had something else to say, and then flipped the phone shut when the connection broke. I chucked it back into Seth's lap, flopping back on the seat.

"Who's Holden?" Seth asked, caressing the steering wheel as he made a right turn. "Is he the kid that lives down the street from us?"  
"Just up on the hill, yeah," I answered.

"The Taylors'?" Gran asked, turning down the music a bit so she could hear my response.

"Yeah, I think that's his name."  
"How come you didn't tell me you were friends with Jane's boy?"

I assume Jane is Holden's mom?

"Well, you know, it's just school stuff."  
Gran nodded. "Right."

Suddenly she snapped her fingers, like receiving inspiration.

"Oh, Kade, I forgot to ask you! Who was that _adorable_ boy that dropped you off on his motorcycle the other day?"

Seth must have been drinking something right at that minute, because he broke out instantly in frantic hacking, and a low hiss sounded as soda bubbled somewhere other than the can and other than Seth's mouth. Gran yelped, reaching over with her handkerchief to dab frantically at his chin.

"Careful, Seth!" she chided. But he wasn't listening, still choking.

"Exactly!" Seth exclaimed the instant his lungs were clear. He glared at me in the rearview mirror.

"Who was that punk on the motorcycle?" he demanded. "Why were you clinging to his abs like a koala?"

Before I could retort, and fiercely, Gran did.

"_Punk_?" she repeated, disgusted. "Please. I know respectability when I see it, and that young man was quite a catch. You should be proud of yourself, Kade."  
She winked at me. I blushed furiously; how in the world was I supposed to react with two such polar opposite audiences present?

"Er--- thanks?"

"I'm watching that kid," Seth growled. "Next time he comes anywhere near you, he better be in a million-dollar tux with a decent haircut and---"

"_Seth_," I said in the singsong voice, catching his eye in his rearview mirror, "remember our little agreement?"

His jaw twitched like he wanted nothing more than to argue, but then he fell back in his seat.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Old habits, I guess."

"A decent haircut?" Gran repeated. "Seth, honey. You're living in the nineties. You're a Backstreet Boy!"

"_This_," Seth said, pointing to his hair, "is a fat mohawk, _not_ a bowl-cut. My name is Seth Waters, _not_ Nick Carter."

Gran snorted.

"Pff. Whatever you say, _werd_. Right turn here."

He made the turn, and I watched as we emerged from the folding buildings out into an expansive parking lot. At it's boundary line about a hundred yards up, the asphalt cut off into peach-colored sand, and from there, it was nothing but beach. People flooded it like fans at a football game, but the water looked clear enough... and further down east, I could see some less-populated stretches of sand. I smiled to myself, remembering how much I loved the water. I'd be soaked to the bone when today was over.

"This it?" Seth sounded slightly more cheerful. "Wow... that's lots of bikinis. You take your time at that convention, Gran."  
"While you're busy being a perv," I said nastily, "Gran, can I have some change just for drinks and stuff? I'll pay you back."  
"No need," Gran said, slipping from her wallet a five-dollar bill and handing it to me.

"Thanks." I pocketed it and turned to the seat next to mine, where Seth and I had packed our swim suits in two bags.

When I found my one-piece and pink lae from Honolulu (fake), I looked back up to watch Seth find a reasonable parking place. It was packed, and we were at least eighty yards from the sand when we got out of the car. Gran got out to wish us a fun time before stepping into the driver's seat. When she pulled away, she didn't bother to turn the music to a different station. Seth nodded, smug.

"I taught her well."  
I rolled my eyes.

We trekked down at an angle across the black top, hoping to find a restroom where we could change. The sounds of the beach slowly grew louder, and when I focused more on our path and less on the water, I saw them.

Several uniformed motorcycles, dirt bikes, really, were parked all in a row like ducklings: there were about nine of them. Of course I was reminded instantly of Zane's bike, but these weren't glossy black and fancy like his. Instead they were checkered with racing colors, with insignias of different companies advertised on the back seat. A chain locked their tires in place, so they couldn't be stolen. They looked significant... where did they seem familiar?

"Hey, Seth, look."  
I nudged him and he saw the motorcycles, whistling as he did.

"Nice."  
"Is there an event going on?"  
"Dude, only the National Championships! Dunno why they're _here_, though, they should be up in L.A. getting a feel for the turf."

"Do they race?"  
"No, Katydid, remember the magazine? They're the showoffs that do aerials in the air. Really cool, probably break every bone in their body..."  
"Wow, that sounds _really_ inspirational."  
I added a taste of sarcasm to seal off the conversation, but it did just the opposite. Seth was still blabbing on about the tournament when we finally found the restrooms. We split our separate ways, thank heaven, and by the time we met eachother back outside, the topic had died off. Instead, we talked mercilessly about the bathrooms' cramped air and how much we hated public toilets.

When we got to the water, it was better than I'd imagined.

"Sweet," Seth droned, stepping into the receding waves. "This feels... different from the water at Gran's."  
"Yeah..." I couldn't explain it, but there _was_ something different. Maybe it was just psychological. Whatever. I grabbed his wrist before he could plunge into the deeper waves.

"C'mon, let's go over there, there's less people."  
I pointed east, and when he saw the clearing of sand, he nodded.

As we set off, I noticed most of the people here were either adults or little kids, mostly toddlers. This caught me off guard for a minute, thinking this place would probably be more popular than a theme park, but then remembered all the teenagers were still at school.

(Dang. Not so many shirtless boys to look at.)

Well, we'll be here all day, they'll show up.

(Oh, really. Well, well, well, look who's fessing up.)

Fessing up? What?

(Oh, come on, you've been trying to avoid being a girl your whole life. Believe me, I've sat here and listened to it for sixteen years!)

Well, sit and listen to some more. Thanks for reminding me most boys are jerks.

(Man, me and my big mouth... Oh well. You'll probably forget.)

Try me. Not likely.

Seth was visibly disappointed; he'd remembered we were here during school hours too.

"Dang," he said under his breath.

"What are you talking about, Seth?" I asked sweetly. "There are plenty of older women here in bikinis, don't you like them?"  
"I'm surprised they haven't been arrested," he muttered in response.

When we reached our little clearing, I could see we weren't the only ones with our eye on this end of the beach: down some more yards, a few umbrellas were scattered here and there, small-family-sized sites. I noticed one umbrella that was a deep shade of crimson. Underneath was black with shadow. I could make out a very large, round figure lounging in a lawn chair low to the ground: I saw the outline of a button nose and the fluff of a beard.

"So, you gonna hit the water, or what?"

I turned to Seth. He was standing about three feet in, the waves lapping at his thighs. I smirked, throwing the lae down on the sand next to our other things.

"What, you afraid to go in without me?" I sneered. "You need Katydid to hold your hand?"  
Seth snorted. "Hold your hand, sure, just to force you under."  
"Right, yeah, as if I'm helpless in the water." I rolled my eyes and waded to his side, pushing past him against the current.

"Where are you going?" he asked boredly. When I looked back, his hands were on his hips. He hadn't moved.

"C'mon, scardy-cat," I challenged, moving deeper.

"There's a breeze up," he pushed, lifting an eyebrow. "You're gonna get cold fast."  
"There's a one-hundred-degree sun out," I said back. "That's why people are here."  
He sighed, grimacing as I moved deeper. The water was cool at my chest. I let my arms sink down into it, tasting the salt in the waves as they bounced against my chin.

"Kade..." Seth groaned, annoyed.

"Come on!" I laughed back. "What's your problem? It's just water!"

"It's deep, and the waves are high," he retorted. "Wait till the tide calms down. You see all those clouds out there?"

"You're such a tour guide," I said, flapping my arms underneath the water, propelling myself farther out. I stopped when my toes could barely touch the sand beneath.

"Come on, Seth, this is so fun! You're weightless out here."

"Kade--- Kade, look out!"  
I glanced over my shoulder. A wave rolled like a shock of electricity right towards my head. I grinned, closing my eyes and holding my breath as it swept over me. I felt myself pushed, rolled head-over-heels, as the ripple passed. I broke the surface laughing, coughing up water that slipped into my open mouth.

"Kade!"

I forced my eyes open, wiping wet bangs sticking to my face from my eyes.

"Yeah?" I called back.

"That could have swallowed you," Seth scolded. "Come back here and wait for a while, we've got all day. You're going to get tired."

I just laughed at him again, checking over my shoulder. Another wave, smaller than the last but still higher than my head, was running towards me. I smirked, and turned back to Seth, widening my eyes and flapping my arms frantically.

"Save me! Save me, Seth! I'm drowning!"  
"Not funny, Kade," he growled. "Knock it off."  
"Help! Help!" I laughed, and forgot to close my mouth as the wave engulfed my head... and I'd miscalculated it's timing. I felt my throat squeeze nigh shut as water flooded it. I tried to open my eyes, to get my bearings, but the sudden loss of breath had messed with my head. I think I was upside down... I felt myself spinning. Another wave must have picked up, because I didn't float back up to the surface. Instead I was pushed farther down.

I finally got my eyes open and realized my mouth was gaping, letting water in like a cinema giving out free movie tickets. I didn't panic, just glanced around in an effort to find the surface--- but my eyes hadn't adjusted yet, and everything was just a big blue-green blur. I was starting to feel the pressure on my lungs...

Suddenly, something hard with a strong grip I couldn't fight closed around my waist---

It yanked me upward, and I watched with open eyes the water's surface shatter into blinding sunlight. I coughed salt from my mouth, working frantically to find my footing. But the hard clamp was still tight around me, dragging me towards the sand. As I coughed, I realized my feet were firm on a more reachable surface. I felt the more shallow water lapping at my hips and realized I'd been rescued, to an extent.

I moved my fists to my eyes, trying to wipe away the blurry haze that had coated them. When most of the blur was gone, and when my bangs were finally shoved messily from my brow, I looked up towards the sand and saw Seth standing right where I'd left him, about twenty paces up. His face was twisted in shock--- but more than that he looked disgruntled. He was frozen in a halfway step, like considering whether or not to come get me.

But wait, hadn't he dragged me up?

There was an exasperated sigh to my right. I turned.

Zane scowled at me with annoyed hazel eyes, one pressed tight in his pink burn scar. He was soaking wet, black hair pressed flat against the sides of his head and along the curve of his slanted brow, his arms folded over his bare chest. His pale skin shimmered in the bright sun... At a first glance, in a tiny nanosecond of knowledge, I'd thought he was a white angel or something.

I blinked, a wave of emotions flooding me, _this_ one drowning me. I wanted to smile, wince, frown... How was I supposed to react? The situation was awkward enough.

"Are you crazy?" he asked me matter-of-factly, like he was a therapist asking a disturbed patient a very serious inquiry. But the look on his face was just mellow irritation.

I decided to play along, pushing aside any other accounts of the past concerning the two of us.

I shrugged.

"I could be. It's off and on."

He just kept frowning like I was some hopeless, yet strangely amusing cause.

I tried a different approach.

"A little bit in everyone, right?"

He snorted.

"Don't even get me started on that one."

"Kade!"

We both turned: Seth was glaring at us. It was a battle in his own mind: he was ticked at me for "nearly drowning", and ticked at Zane for touching me.

"Are you insane?" he snarled at me, furious. "What in the world _is_ it with you?"

He glanced at Zane again, and I saw the real explosion coming. I jumped quickly ahead, staring firmly into Seth's blazing glare.

"Our agreement," I reminded him, lifting my eyebrows. He scowled harder, disgusted, and with one last bitter look at Zane, shook his head to trudge back to the sand.

"Sorry," I called halfheartedly at his back. He just waved a hand over his head, moving for his jeans.

I sighed, but couldn't help feeling relieved. It could have been so much worse.

I looked instantly at Zane--- what else was I going to look at?--- and he was still there, roughly brushing drenched bangs from the bridge of his nose.

"Wait--- what's going on?" I asked, almost laughing. He looked at me warily.

"What do you mean?" he asked, bewildered.

"You said you were moving; you were going to leave _yesterday_!" I said, but I couldn't help grinning. It was then that I realized I was thrilled to see him.

He just frowned. And I loved it.

"I did leave yesterday," he said slowly. "We stopped to spend a day here, since we have time to spare."  
"Oh, you and your uncle?" I nodded. "Well, I guess I should have known that, huh?"  
"No..." But then he bit his lip, shaking his head. Flecks of water showered my forehead; it felt refreshing against the beating sun. I noticed the bruise below his good eye: it had healed somewhat since I'd last seen it.

"You're not here with your uncle?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"No, I am," he said suspiciously. "Just other people too. Guys... guys I know."

I nodded.

"Oh, well, okay... Sorry to distract you."

I didn't know why, but something in his tone wasn't really welcoming. I turned, still a little confused, to wade back to the sand. His eyes followed me in equal confusion.

"Wait a second."

He caught my wrist. I was surprised at the firmness of his grip. Sorry, had I done something wrong? I turned back, waiting with large eyes.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he asked. It wasn't the bratty demand you usually hear; he shaped it modestly, curiously.

I noticed he hadn't released my wrist.

(And let me guess... you didn't make any move to pull it away!)

You know, some day I'm going to have to see a psychologist or a gypsy or someone to help me get rid of you. You can get really annoying.

(I try, I try...)

I shrugged in response to him.

"My Gran's here for a convention. Seth and I came along to ditch school."  
He smirked.

"Nice move," he drawled. "Any death wishes along with that as side notes?"

I blinked, getting it instantly.

"What? I don't have a death wish. I was having fun, that's all. The waves aren't even that high; you and Seth are just paranoid."

He nodded sarcastically, unconvinced.

"Right."

The breeze wafted down over us. I practically watched it brush his bare chest, which, I failed to mention, was nicely crafted in muscle. I looked quickly into his eyes, just so I wouldn't get too carried away.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked him.  
Despite the blazing sun, the breeze had settled a temporary chill over my arms. He cocked his head, confused again.

"No," he said, then smirked as he glanced at my arms. "But you are."  
"No, I'm not," I said, folding them across my chest.

"You know what people do when they're cold?" he asked with a little more attitude, lifting an eyebrow at me. He folded his arms tightly across his chest like I had, squeezing himself as if to illustrate someone shivering. (I noticed briskly his triceps thickening as he did so.)

"They do this!" he finished, looking at me meaningfully. I rolled my eyes.

"So what do you want to do about it?" I asked, moving my hands to my hips. "Stand here in the water and get colder?"

"You just said you weren't cold to begin with," he said slyly. As he dropped his arms, the waves rocked against his balance and he moved closer to me to steady himself. It might not have been intentional, but I noticed it like a slap across the face.

"Yeah, I'm not," I said, looking up now into his face. "I'm just saying that out of concern for you, of course, seeing as _you're_ cold."

"Of course," he agreed dryly, glancing again at the chills on my arms.

He reached out to stroke them, and I felt my heart leap.

"What are you doing?" I asked, trying not to blush like a tomato.

"It's a hundred and eleven degrees and you've got goose bumps!" he said incredulously, rubbing harder against my skin in an attempt to dispel them.

They just multiplied and replenished the flesh. Hey, they were commanded to. It's not like Zane's hands weren't having a little more psychological effect.

He noticed they weren't disappearing, and dropped his hands to his hips.

"You're strange," he murmured.

"Well, people don't _just_ get goose bumps when they're cold!" I snapped, trying to sound angry, but I so wasn't. I'd actually felt colder when he'd let go of me.

He eyed me with that frustrated, annoyed look again. Mellow, just some kind of internal incomprehension. Then he sighed, shaking his head, and turned back for the sand.

"Come on, your brother's pissed, you better get in the sun."

"I am in the sun," I retorted, not moving.

He rolled his eyes.

"The sun on the _beach_, Kade."  
I twisted my lips in irritation and followed him through the fluttering waves until we reached the shore. I felt heavier when I left the water, like all this weight had suddenly crashed down on my hips, pushing against my feet. I wobbled a little bit, and he caught my elbow.

"Sun sickness?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, it gives me goose bumps," I droned back, equally sarcastic. He smirked, and I made my way farther up on the sand where I could lay down, just for Seth's sake. I honestly wanted to jump back in the water, but that probably wasn't going to happen in the next ten minutes with him watching. As I sat down in the warm sand, I glanced to my left to see Seth over at the slushy stands, studying me like a hawk, and Zane too. I sighed and leaned back on my hands, looking back up at my companion.

Zane hadn't sat but was looking off in the opposite direction, towards the umbrella shading the large, bearded man.

"I hope you feel better," he said mockingly, shooting me another smirk, and I had to smile back. It was becoming a necessity of life: pretending to worry about Seth's precautions... (as far as physical injury went, anyway. I pretty much had seen his view on the boy category.)

That's when it hit me. Here he was, Zane, standing before me like we'd always been together.

He'd fought Jace, and Harrison. For different reasons, maybe, but it still happened. Was he really... just like Jace? Like any of them? Was this exactly what Seth was talking about--- what _I_ had been talking about? About learning to grow my own judgment? Was Zane slipping around that? Was I missing something?  
Enough question marks, let's get to the answers.

"Zane?"  
"Hm?" He turned to look at me; he'd gazed back out at the water.

I bit my lip. Now how in the world was I going to phrase this?

_Um, Zane, no offense or anything, but for the sake of my own judgment, and freedom from Seth's, I was just wondering... You don't happen to be a back-stabbing punk who belongs in juvi like Jace is, do you?_

Right. Genius, Katydid.

I sighed.

"I'm just... Seriously, I don't mean this to be offensive in any way, all right?"  
He frowned. "Okay. What's the punch line?"  
"I need to know..." Man, that was a dramatic opening. I bit myself again and tried another route.

"I hope--- I mean, I know you're not anything like Jace, or Harrison, for that matter. I know that... you'd never go to someone's house and... you know, throw rocks at their window and beat them up and stuff... Right? I mean, you're better than that. Higher."  
It was really a question, just styled like something I already believed. Sometimes you can make yourself believe something: you just have to say it like you do. Then, I guess it can melt in over time... It's all in your head. That's what Dad would say all the time.

But here, it wasn't really all in my head. Zane was an actual person, who could do actual things. This wasn't whether or not I was good at something, like I could change my attitude about one of my own personal traits. No, Zane was real, a whole other person I had no control over. I needed to know from _him_, not from me. Because what did _I_ know, when it really came down to blood and guts?

Zane read me like a book, as usual. Maybe I'd been thinking out loud the whole time. I probably wouldn't have needed to anyway... That look in his eyes was like a god or something reading the "thoughts of my heart"... great. _He_ was convenient.

He stared at me for a moment longer before lowering himself down in a crouch before me.

"Kade, if you ever see me acting like that son of a... like Jace, you have my permission to throw me off a building. Cool?"  
I grinned. "I guess that means... you'd never do any of the things I said?"  
"What idiot wanders around doing stuff like Jace?" he asked, disgusted. "He's always been like that; people back in San Diego have had to live with it their whole lives, so they know better now. Everyone's sick of Jace and his stupid behavior. It's almost not even worth worrying about. He's so low, I can miss his face in a crowd."  
I just grinned more. This, right here, was awesome. I loved it! Is this not the coolest thing you've ever heard in your life?

And totally without thinking, just heeding the gratitude, the _relief_ inside me, I flung my arms around his neck.

He grunted in surprise as the force of my embrace actually knocked him backwards; he fell flat on his back in the sand, and I fell flat on his chest, still hugging him with embarrassing endurance.

"I knew you were high!" I squealed.

"What?" He sounded horrified.

I blushed, opening my eyes, and lifted my head slightly to meet his.

"I mean--- um--- I, uh--- knew you were high-_er_ than Jace. Like, better than him."

He still looked at me skeptically, but not with disgust: that thrilled me. So much so, that I forgot I was still sprawled out on top him like a beached whale.

Then, suddenly, we stared at eachother with the same dread widening our eyes. In unison, we glanced frantically in Seth's direction---

But he was flirting mercilessly with the teenage girl who ran the fruit stands. I'm sure he was relieved to have found someone his age besides me to interact with.

I found myself relieved too, and actually sighed. When I looked back at Zane, there was a question in his eyes, some kind of frustration, but it settled the deeper I fell into them. Soon, it was nothing but a simple wonder in the back of his mind, a little flicker of curiosity. For a moment, I thought he would voice it, ask me something, or maybe act on it... but then his eyes shifted to my arms, and I realized what modest position we sported. Reddening like a volcano, I scrambled off his chest, my arms sliding roughly out from under his head. He seemed to be a little pink himself as he climbed quickly to his feet.

I brought my legs up to my chest and hugged them tightly there, trying and failing to avoid his eyes.

"Um--- well---" I broke off.

"I'll, uh---" he was glancing back over at the umbrellas now.

"I'll be back," he muttered, as if unsure he could keep that estate or even wanted to. I just nodded, smiling, still rose-colored.

"Sure," I said breathlessly, "see yah."

And he took off unsurely down the beach. I watched every step he took, even when he stopped at the umbrella with the round man beneath to exchange a few words. It hit me then that the man was his uncle, and I smiled. I heard Zane's voice raise, and assumed he was contradicting something his uncle was saying. The uncle's posture indicated... smugness? But all in all, the conversation died abruptly and Zane marched off to the other side of the umbrella. Setting his weight, he spoke a few words to the shadow... I thought he was talking to himself for a moment, but then---

A high-pitched, jubilant whoop rang from behind the round man's sillouhette and at Zane's feet the shape of a small boy leapt into the sunlight. I could see Zane grinning; I watched the small boy scamper gleefully to the water.

"Come on, Zane!" he squealed, bouncing on the spot.

I recognized him instantly.

It was the excited boy from the gas station, the one I'd never had the chance to see.

I suddenly knew, with a soft smile, who the teenage voice so unexplainably familiar had been.

"Ah, I'm tired..." Zane called back, playfulness I'd never heard before in his voice.

"_Pleeeease_?" he boy implored, clasping his hands under his chin and puckering his lips.

Silence, then---

Zane made a fake growling sound and ran for the water, sending the younger boy into a squealing fit, jumping up and down in ecstatic fright. Zane swooped down on his little figure, and in one fluid movement, scooped him up on his shoulders fireman style like a sack of flower. The child's laughter rose up over the rushing of the waves, and was closely following by Zane's still playful growling noises. I didn't think I could grin so hard without spraining my face.

Intentionally, Zane toppled over into the water. The boy spun from his shoulders into the shallow waves, still laughing jubilantly. Who was this kid? Whoever he was, Zane was more likely to be 'Zeus' in his eyes.

Zane emerged from the water like a zombie, his arms stretched out rigid in front of him. Moaning, his head sagging, he crawled on his knees through the lapping water towards the boy, who squealed in delighted terror and started scampering about like he had nowhere to go.

"Look out, Logan!" an enthusiastic, gruffy voice called. It was Zane's uncle: he was propped up in his beach chair, and even in the darkness, I could see him grinning as I was.

Logan yelped in response, bouncing from Zane's reach at the last minute. He turned his mirth on Zane's uncle, who shouted playfully again,

"There he is, he's coming!"  
Logan squealed again and raced through the water, bringing up walls of splashes around his little prancing legs. Zane still followed like an undead sleep walker, moaning and thrashing out at Logan unexpectedly.

Logan leapt out of his reach, joyous. Zane's intentional miss sent him falling flat into the water again, and he didn't come up this time. Even as my gut twisted ever so slightly, I knew he was fine. Logan hurried to his side, ducking his arms down in the water to investigate. I watched for a moment longer as his eyes widened in surprise, as did his smile, and then suddenly Zane emerged from the water, spraying a stream of water from his mouth right between Logan's eyes.

Logan jumped back and whiped at his face in his laughter, while Zane moved back to his knees making sounds of disgust, his tongue hanging freely from his mouth. I chuckled, resting my head on my knees... Yeah, salt water was nasty. My goose bumps were long gone. I could sit here forever, watching them as they launched themselves into a battle of the splashes...

My eyes had been on Zane for the most part, and had gone unnoticed, but now, minutes later, as I turned my eyes on Logan, the little boy spotted me. Even from our distance, I could see him staring directly at me. He froze in his tracks, pointing to me, and asked Zane in a curious voice who I was.

I glanced warily at Zane, blushing a little, as he turned to follow Logan's finger. When he saw me, I saw him smirk, and rise to his feet. He approached Logan's side, towering over him, and asked him a question, which Logan responded to with gusto, nodding vigorously. Before I knew it, he had taken Zane's hand in both of his and was being lead by him towards me. As they walked, I took a brief second to realize their swimming trunks were identical: dark, dark green and down past their knees, just different in size.

I looked away quickly: appear aloof, appear aloof. Act like you haven't been gawking after them for the past ten minutes.

I rifled aimlessly through my bag, deciding on some sun screen when they finally reached my side.

"Hi!" Logan chanted fearlessly, beaming. I turned immediately to grin back, and watched in slight surprise as he retreated shyly to an angle at Zane's back. He clutched his hand in both of his like a life line, Zane's easily twice as large as his two combined.

"Hey, come on, she doesn't bite," Zane said fondly, turning to smirk at me. "Most of the time, anyway."  
I shot him a threatening smile before looking back at Logan.

"What's your name?" I asked, hoping to humor him.

"Logan," he said a little more bravely, still lingering somewhere behind Zane's hips.

"Are you Zane's little brother?" I asked. I was genuinely curious this time.

"No," he said, giggling as if that were a funny concept, "he's my cousin!"  
"Oh." I grinned at Zane. "He looks like a fun cousin."

"He's Superman!" Logan exclaimed, now officially breaking his temporary shell.

I laughed, my eyes still locked with Zane's.

"Superman, huh? Are you sure he fits the part?"  
"Yeah!" Logan continued. "He can even fly!"  
I raised my eyebrows.

"Nuh uh!" Still humoring, still gazing at Zane...

"Yuh huh! He flies up and does flips in---"  
"Okay, okay, she gets it," Zane said quickly, his smirk faltering cautiously.

I blinked, but had only time to smile again as Logan asked me,

"Is your name Kade?"

I nodded. "Yep. How did you know?"  
"Zane told me," Logan said proudly. "He talks about you a lot."  
"He does?" I looked directly at Superman, who blinked.

"Not a lot," he amended hastily. "Just for the kid's sake."  
"Right." I nodded again, feeling a little warmer.

"You know what?" Logan whispered, excited. I leaned in close to listen. Zane watched warily.

"What?" I whispered back.

Logan let go of Zane's hand to scamper forward, swimming trunks sticking to his legs, to cup his hands on the side of my head and whisper in my ear,

"I think Zane has a crush on you!"  
I resisted a laugh, but my stomach was flip-flopping.

"Really?" I asked. Zane frowned, folding his arms, and I was eternally thankful that he couldn't hear.

"Yeah!" Logan whispered, giggling again. "One time, I asked what he's thinking about, and and he said _'A girl_''. And I asked what's her name, and he said '_I don't know_', but I think it was you!"

The earwigs were back for a family reunion. They started partying in my stomach like there was no tomorrow.

I was partying with them.

But seriously... was this the truth? Or was this a little kid bending stories?

Let's not think about that right now... Let's just go with the flow, shall we?  
I looked at Zane. He was watching us with more than a hint of concern, but mostly just bored disapproval. He was staring more at Logan than at me... I wet my lips as Logan hurried, giggling, back to Zane's side. Zane trailed his every movement with steady eyes, then looked back at me. I just smiled, shaking my head, when the obvious question flickered in his gaze. Logan began tugging on his elbow, standing on tip toe to reach his chest, so in the moment when Zane was distracted with taking Logan's hand again, I quickly opened the sun screen cap and pretended to be indifferent.

In reality, my head was spinning.

And in that brief second when I massaged the cream over my forearm, I was struck with an epiphany. An idea so utterly amazing to me that I had to stop what I was doing and stare at the sand just to harness it, to stabilize it.

Could it be?  
No. No, no, no, it was so insane... but...

But really, I'd said it before... what did _I know_ about Zane Ashborne?

I dispelled the epiphany. It was too crazy, too...

(Too good to be true?)

Along those lines, yeah...

I mean--- er--- No, just--- weird! I mean, he's my friend!

(Mm, hm...)

"Kade?"  
His voice was new now. It was something so entirely different than what it had ever been before. My eyes sought it's source almost desperately.

Zane eyed me thoughtfully for a moment, still a little suspicious about the exchange between Logan and I, but then he sighed lightly, glancing over at his uncle.

"Well... we've got somewhere to be at twelve. Long drive. We better go."

"Already?" Logan whined, eyes wide with disappointment. My own stomach sunk. When would I see him again? It had been total chance that we'd met eachother here. He'd moved now; he was, as far as I was concerned, gone for good.

"Yeah, sorry," Zane said, smiling down at Logan. "We'll go get a slushy before we go."

"Mmmm!" Logan licked his lips eagerly, and then turned back to look at me. His grin faltered.

"Is Kade coming with us?" he asked hopefully.

I looked at Zane: he just blinked.

"Erm--- no, she's here with her own family."  
Logan was visibly disappointed.

"But then... will we see her again?"  
My head spun a second time. How could this kid say every word just... perfectly? I looked at Zane with genuine eyes. I wanted to know as much as Logan did. Whether Zane did too, I didn't care.

Zane fumbled for words.

"Um...uh, I don't know, really."

"Where does she live?"  
"San Diego."

"Will you come visit us?" Logan asked me with large, innocent eyes. I smiled, humoring him on the outside, praying on the inside.

"I hope so. I'd love to, really."  
"You would?" He beamed. "Come for my birthday! It's next week!"  
"Wow," I said. "How old will you be?"  
"I'll be nine!"

"Nine years worth of secrets to be pounded out of you," Zane muttered, and I laughed.

"Hey, if you're not in on the confidential, that's life," I teased.

He rolled his eyes.

"Right. Okay, Logan, go help Uncle Isaac get ready."  
"Okay..." After a nanosecond of sulking, he turned to wave at me. I waved back, and honestly hoped I'd see him again.

"See yah, Logan."

"Bye, Kade!" he called, cheered, and then he turned to run in "Uncle Isaac"'s direction.

I watched him for a moment longer before looking at Zane. He was watching him, too, and it took several seconds of staring him down for him to finally catch my gaze.

I gave him a smile.

"So he's your cousin?"  
"Yeah." Zane shrugged. "My mom's sister's kid."

"He's sweet."  
Zane sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "You've heard what I think of him as of now."

I shook my head chidingly.

"Kids his age like to have secrets, don't get all personal about it."

He looked at me hard.

"What did he say?" he asked slowly.

I laughed.

"You really aren't going to drop this, are you? This is so funny."  
He scowled.

"Fine, don't tell me."  
"You'll live." I hid a meaningful smile, then looked back up at him.

"So is he visiting you guys?"  
Zane shook his head, his eyes softening.

"No, he lives with us. His parents are... well, they lost rights to him a few years ago."

I felt a lump form in my throat. "I'm sorry..."

Zane nodded.

"I think it's better off for him that way, though. He... he loves Uncle Isaac a lot. He's happy with him, whereas... his parents are messed up."  
"He loves you," I said, staring deep into his eyes. "He's happy with you."  
He returned my gaze for a few long moments, then looked away.

"Well... he didn't like San Diego much. He lived in Oregon before... he had to come to us. But I think he'll feel better about L.A. He really loves all the beaches."

"You guys moved to Los Angeles?" I was actually surprised. And... a little relieved?

Okay, I admit it, I was thrilled. I'd assumed he'd moved to the other end of the state or something, or even _out_ of California. I felt warmer, lighter. I couldn't help but smiling. The closer the better.

"Yeah," he said. "It's just for... well, for stuff I'm doing, but then..."

"You might come back?" I sat up a little straighter, rapt now. I didn't care if he didn't want to talk about it: I was going to get what I needed. "This is all temporary?"  
He winced. "We don't know. If we like it up there, we'll stay. Uncle Isaac got some really good job offers; talk about coincidence. I think there's a ninety-five percent chance we'll stay."  
My heart dropped again. I folded my arms over my knees.

"Oh..."

"Are you okay?"  
"I'm fine." I sighed, resting my ear on my wrists.

I watched on the sand as his shadow grew closer. Soon, he was standing directly over me. When I looked up, he was already moving down into a crouch at my side.

"Can I buy you one last drink?" he asked me, smirking. "Seeing as it's ten o' lock, you could consider this sluffing. And you owe me one, remember."  
I laughed, beckoning forth a grin from his own lips, and hurried to my feet, beating him there.

"As long as you pay for it," I said, "I'll take it."

"All part of tradition, Kade."

---------

I didn't know where Seth was, and I didn't care. I just hoped, in the back of my mind, (the part that wasn't busy drowning in Zane's smirk), that he wouldn't show up out of nowhere, all pumped up for another day's work of There's-A-Y-Chromosome-Near-Kade annihilation. I told Zane about this, which was a mistake, because from then on, he made the extra effort to freak me out with false alarms. Shh, Seth's coming! Hurry, get up, Seth sees us! Yeah, stuff like that. I drank my slushy faster than I usually would just out of Zane-inflicted anxiety, getting about a thousand brain-freezes and scowling at him the whole way through it.

When we'd had our fill, making the traditional toast "To a break", I remembered something I'd meant to do since the fight two days ago.

"Zane, hold on."  
We stopped in our tracks near a garbage bin: how convenient. I slipped the book bag from my shoulders, (I'd brought it along incase I ended up paying for the slushies) and rifled through my clothing before coming to...

My airwalks. Smirking in grim satisfaction, I withdrew them, brandishing them before Zane for inspection. On their sides, written in sharpie, was Jace's name hugged by two hearts. I made sure Zane saw that crucial detail before I turned swiftly and tossed them into the garbage bin, letting the _thud_ of their disposal ring in my head.


	15. Chapter 15: The Big Skid League

15: THE BIG SKID LEAGUE

---

_Sugar, We're Going Down Fall Out Boy_

Tuesday night. Day after San Clemente.

All caught up? Good.

I'll never really forget that night. Not ever.

---------

"Kade!"

"Wuttup!"

"Phone's for you."  
I finished writing the word 'fun' in my journal before flipping it shut and tossing it back under my bed. I cleared my throat as I climbed down the carpeted stairs, just to get my couch potato of a voice ready: I didn't want to live one of those Princess Bride moments: 'The pit of despair! Don't even think--- _eeeeghhkk_!, _eeeauugh!_, haugh, hegghk, heemm... Don't even think about trying to escape.'

Very attractive.

Seth was waiting in the kitchen with his ankles crossed up on the counter, one hand flopped lazily in my direction, holding out the phone, as he punched away at his lap top with the other. He'd spiked his hair with gel today: it was a wide mohawk about two inches tall, fingers of fused hairs all stretching in different directions. He looked like an ostrich chick rock star. It was pretty cool, actually...

The clock on the wall said five-thirty. When I glanced back down at Seth, he'd turned to look at me.

There was a new piercing in his right eyebrow, one I for sure hadn't seen until now.

I yelped in shock, jumping back like the angelic idiot I am. Seth blinked, his stare asking 'Are you on drugs', but then his eyes followed mine and he burst into laughter.

"Seth!" I squealed, my jaw slack. I could only imagine what Gran would think of this. Apparently she hadn't seen it yet, since we haven't recently had to rush her to the emergency room.

"When did you get that?" I demanded, still twisted and pinched up as if I'd never seen a silver stud before.

"Hot, isn't it?" he said, smirking. I noticed the skin around it was red. On cue, he raised a tissue to dab at the pink edges. When he took it away there were tiny blood stains flecked across the folds.

"Yeah, still a little irritated, but no worries, I'm a veteran." His finger turned to indicate the five billion or so rings and studs that outlined his ears.  
"Gran is going to _flip_! Did you get that at the beach?"  
Seth smiled sweetly. "Yes, Katydid, and I drove home in Gran's car with a napkin stuck to the side of my face. No, I got it today after school."

I took a deep breath. C'mon, Kade, he'd come home with new peircings before; several times, actually. It was no big deal. Gran isn't going to have a heart attack, and Seth isn't going to be responsible for her death. All good.

"So what's the plan?" I asked him crossly.

"Meh?"  
"How are you going to get this past her?" I pressed through my teeth.

He snorted.

"Dude, if I'm going to get a piercing, that only means the whole world's gonna see it for as long as it exists. You think I'm gonna come to dinner with a bag over my head for the rest of my life?"  
I sighed. "Fine. But I'm not standing in the red zone; her wrath is on you, man, and you only."

He shrugged, tapping away at the laptop again. "Watch and learn, kiddo."  
"Was the phone for me?"

"Yeah, here."  
He picked it up from his lap and held it out again. I snatched it from him, still a little shaken, and hurried up the stairs so I wouldn't have to know he was eavesdropping.

Once in my room, I locked the door and sank onto the end of my bed in one long, fluid motion, answering as I did.

"Hello?" I said breathlessly.

_"Hey, Kade? Are you okay?"_  
It was Simone: her voice always sounded so pretty, it made me jealous. I exhaled, running a hand through my hair.

"Oh--- yeah, you asking about the scream?"  
_"Yeah."_ She chuckled on the other end. _"Did Zane Ashborne rev his engine nearby?"_  
I blushed, my stomach fluttering, and then got a grip.

"No. Seth got a piercing in his eyebrow."

There was silence, and then she puckered to life like an old truck refusing to start.

_"Er--- really?"_  
"Yeah," I groaned. "Our Gran is going to have a stroke."  
At this, she laughed, and it helped loosen my own head.

_"Well, then, I'm sorry I never got to know her. Nah, I think she'll live. Hey, listen, I called because I was wondering... A.J. and I were going to go sports shopping up in the city. You wanna come with us?"_

I opened my mouth to answer a little too late: Simone laughed on the other end.

_"Don't worry, we're not going to be spending the whole time in dressing rooms. We don't even shop, really, we just look at stuff. Grab some drinks... some fries..."_

That, honestly, made it sound a little better. I nodded vigorously, clinging to any excuse to get out of the house before Gran got home.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd love to! When are you leaving? Is this tonight?"

_"Yes, tonight at six. Sorry it's kind of short notice, but..."_  
"No, you're fine. I'm so glad you called, actually; I really need to get out with some friends."  
_"Tight. Well, we'll come pick you up."_  
"Is Holden coming?" I asked to be polite, and because I was surprised she hadn't mentioned him.

And, his company was always nice...

_"No, he's got a basketball game tonight,"_ Simone replied. _"Semifinals. He's high on adrenaline, but he won't let me come because he thinks I'll _distract_ him," _she added bitterly, and I could picture her scowl.  
I smirked.

"I'm not surprised."

_"Well, his mom'll record it, hopefully."_

"Sure. So I'll see you at six."

_"Yup. See you, Kade."_  
I switched off the phone and flopped back, relieved, onto my pillow.

---------

Gran would be home around six: it was going to be close. If I wanted to clear the area before the storm hit, (wasn't interested in experiencing a 7-rate hurricane all from a woman's mouth, thanks) I'd have to be ready to leave the split second Simone pulled up in the drive way. Of course, I'd also have to get the fact that I was leaving cleared up with Gran or Seth before then. I decided Seth would be easier: he'd probably forget where I was going unless I mentioned Simone's name, so that would seal the deal nicely.

I crept down the stairs. Seth had taken his laptop and was now sprawled out across the leather couch before an episode of _CSI_. I came up from behind and ducked my head down in front of his face, watching upside-down as his eyes widened in horror.

"Crap, Kade, you freaked me out," he breathed. "What's so important that you have to get your hair all over my Mac?"  
"I'm leaving with Simone and her brother at six just to go shopping and hang out," I said quickly. I knew he'd heard a few things---

"Brother?" he asked, eyes narrowing in a suspicion. I rolled my own.

"_Little_ brother, Mr. Keep To My End Of The Agreement. He's fourteen."  
Seth stared closer at me for a moment longer and then sighed, lifting two hands to part the fall of my hair so he could look at his computer screen.

"Fine. No cops tonight."  
"No cops," I promised him, standing up and walking, satisfied, to the refrigerator.

"Are you sure he's fourteen?" he called skeptically over the sounds of gun shots ringing from the T.V.

"Ugh, give it a rest, will you! _Yes_ I know." I slammed the fridge shut and turned to glare at the back of his head.

He waved a hand over his head.

"Okay, okay, _sorry_. Will Simone have time to stay?" His tone at this last detail was slightly brighter.

"No," I said briskly, "she's not even going to come in; I'm getting out of here as fast as I can."  
"Oh, I see," he said, hiding the tremor of disappointment in his voice, "this is about clearing the Oral Earthquake, isn't it?"  
"I've heard it once," I said, laughing bitterly, "and that was plenty. I can't see how you're not scared out of your mind."  
"I just cherish the precious moments of bonding between a grandmother and grandson," he said cheerfully.

"Sure..." I could just shake my head.

A few moments passed in silence. I mixed up some Kool-Aid, just for something to do. I think Gran would need it, emotionally and physically, when she was done wreaking havoc on Seth's head...

"By the way..." Seth droned from the couch, not looking up from his computer, yet he lifted a hand to knock the volume on the T.V. down a couple notches.

Uh, oh.

"Yeah?" I stirred nervously, trying to sound indifferent.

"Was that Zane Ashborne?" he asked curiously. "The one who saved your trash from drowning yesterday?"  
I pursed my lips. Several things flew past my mind at once. I decided to start from the top.

"Okay," I said slowly, "first of all, I did _not_ drown, nor was I _going_ to. I just got the wind knocked out of me."  
"Which would take any regular human to the bottom of the ocean," Seth said matter-of-factly. "Just kinda, you know, _that's what drowning is_."

He of course finished this off with a touch of sarcasm, one I hated because he was impossibly good at it.

So, as usual, my grimace was priceless.

"Speak for yourself."  
"Okay, moving on," he said a little edgily, eager to get to the good stuff. "_Was_ it Zane Ashborne?"  
I glared into the Kool-Aid.

"Yes. You got a problem with him?"  
"No, just... and he's the one I found you hanging out with at the festival? In the middle of a pitch black park, I might add?"

"Yes," I muttered, "and I thought we discussed that."

"We did. And, uh... isn't he the punk that moved out this week?"

My frown only darkened. "Yes. Anything you want to say about _that_?"

He must have read the warning in my tone. Lucky for him, too.

"No... and, he's the punk with the motorcycle."  
"That dropped me off from school. Yes."  
"Hm... okay."

"And his name is Zane, not _punk_."

"Coming from me, 'punk' is a compliment." He reached down onto the ground to conjure a bag of potato chips which he began snacking at viciously.

"Anything else?" I asked begrudgingly.

"Not really," Seth said, his mouth full of lays, "just curious."  
But I wasn't convinced so easily; this was strange, Seth acting all calm about a boy I'd come remotely close to.

"I would think a boy who, I quote, '_saved my trash'_ would score higher in your rep book than usual," I said, just trying to provoke him, to bring out some real answers. He was acting a little cryptic.

Seth just shrugged.

"He does, actually. Not much, definitely not much. But enough."

He said it like a throwaway reply, like something I could take in and just recycle in my mind.

But it stuck.

"What?"

"I mean, okay," Seth said, turning out his hands in a guesture of surrender, "I still think he _could_ use a haircut, and he _needs_ a tanning bed, but he beat the snot out of that delinquent named Harrison Wallock, or at least I think---"

_I turned you into dog crap once and I can do it again._

"Wait, Harrison Wallock?" I demanded. "He's the one Zane was fighting that one day at school?"  
"Yeah, it was pretty gruesome. Wallock was a pile of tar."  
I shrugged. "Well, good."

"Oh, yeah! Yeah, he was the one that ran with Jace Freeman's scrawny A... He got pitched into juvi after that fight at Ashborne's house, I think..."  
"Really?" I looked up with a grin.

"I know, we need to remember to toast to that at dinner..."  
"You can count on me for that one."  
But then I sighed.

"Well, I guess that's what I should learn to accept from you. You base your opinions of guys on on how many pieces one can break another into."

Seth shrugged. "Sure, it's definitely an attribute worth investigating, but with Ashborne there's other stuff, like the fact that I'm sitting here admitting when it comes to showing off, he'd kick my asterisk on that snazz-ba-dazz bike of his---"  
I burst into laughter.

"What? His motorcycle? He does tricks on that thing? It looks like it's worth more than this house!"

"I saw him pull off our curb," Seth reminded me. "He popped a _daisy_. He's a Wheelster, man; freak of nature. I'd pay just to see him do that again."

I snorted, still chuckling.

"Well, whatever, that was probably just to show off to you, you knowget on your nerves... He's really good at that, by the way... But I _severely_ doubt he does anything more than wheelies on that thing."

Seth shrugged.

"Whatev'. All I meant to say is, he's got moves and I'll give him that. And he _did_ save your life so I _guess_ that can knock him up one more notch."

"Thanks," I drawled. "Nice to know what he can do on a pretty bike is more valuable than my existence."  
Seth leaned his head back to grin at me upside-down.

"Don't worry, he's still in my 'Dead as a Doornail' category. Now, knowing that, you wanna know where that son of a popzickey Jace Freeman is?"  
I swallowed.

"Um, I like to keep my imagination PG, thanks."

Seth shrugged, twisting his face in disappointment, and lifting his neck back up to his computer.

"Suit yourself..."

I shuddered, and just as I did, the door bell chimed.

Seth jumped, dropping the bag of potato chips and spilling crumbs all over the carpet. I lifted an eyebrow, smirking.

"Well, we're jittery."  
"Is that Simone?" was all he said, scrambling to pick up the scattered chips.

"Should be," I said, and glanced at the clock: it was six exactly. Gran would come screaming in any minute now... And Simone had beat her. Atta girl, Simmy.

I hurried to the door; when I opened it, it was A.J..

"Hello, madam!" he said, bowing deeply. He was in another edition of his usual pointing-arrow trademark outfit, this time sporting a blood-red-on-cream color scheme. I really needed to get the name of his company.

"Hey, A.J.," I said cheerfully. "Who's trademark is that?"  
He looked up at me.

"Hm?"  
"The arrows on your clothes," I said. "You wear that stuff all the time."  
"Oh, yeah," A.J. laughed. "Those are my uncles, Mitch and Brandon. They're designers for a clothing brand called _Avatar. _The arrows just became a really big hit in Japan; everyone thinks I'm Japanese, wearing all this!"  
I laughed with him.

"Well, I like it," I said. "It suits you."

"Thanks!"

He turned towards the car in the driveway. It was small, deep green; I don't know squat about car brand names except the obvious ones, and I never will. Simone sat at the wheel wearing her favorite violet jersey again: hair flipped, large looped earrings, prettier-than-me as ever, a large smile peering out at us from the tinted windows.

I smiled back, and started down the pavement with A.J., just as a scraping noise erupted from behind me. I glanced back, and Seth was standing shyly in the doorway. He must have leapt onto the porch and then pulled back into the house all in the same movement: his arms clamped the entry way and his legs were twisted together like he'd lost some serious footing in the reconsideration process.

"You wanna say hi to Simone?" I asked him, smirking.

He scowled at me.

"I'm good," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone.

"I got her number," he finished sassily and trudged back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

I just chuckled and started off again to Simone's car.

---------

I sat in the passenger seat while A.J. took the one behind Simone. He never buckled himself in, despite Simone's constant nagging: he just leaned up against the back of her seat, arms draped around it's top, making funny faces at himself in the rearview mirror and insisting on taking dominant part in all our conversations. I have to admit, he was charming for a kid. Like Logan, just older, though it seemed age wasn't a factor anymore: he may be a teenager, but he was a child at heart, really. Even his through-puberty fourteen-year-old voice didn't banish the youthful enthusiasm that sparked in his large, brown eyes.

He and Simone had just finished relating to me a story about Tameron, they playing tug-of-war with the scattered pieces of sentences, when we officially emerged from the cozy-beach-home neighborhood and were surrounded in the bright, lively city of San Diego. A.J. and Simone, the city slickers, noticed my awed expression and snickered to themselves, but let me go ahead and gawk at the mountainous, glowing sky scrapers. Hey, in the span of my life, I'd lived in Utah and on the sea shore... not much city for me lately.

Simone mostly meandered for the first twenty minutes, pointing out all the popular stores and restaurants as we passed them. There were so many: I couldn't see how someone could remember it all. (I guess if you'd lived there your whole life...) The sun was setting; all the lights were up and at 'em, all the restaurants buzzing with neon, like a supernatural homecoming dance. Headlights burned by so fast they were blurs: glow-in-the-dark streamers strung over the asphalt dance floor.

When we rolled up into the massive parking lot of the mall, Simone again gave me the lowdown of what was going to happen: basically window shopping, with maybe some browsing-and-fitting in the different stores. Then drinks, maybe a snack... very easy going. It was going to be one big stress-reliever. I forgot about homework, about the fight, about Zane... This night was just for Simone and A.J..

I'd been to malls in Utah, usually after school, during the busy afternoon hours, when the only people there were young adults and packs of families all shopping frantically for clothing or necessity. Now, it seemed like a haven for the teenage population. Once, back in Utah, I'd gone to a grocery store that was just a block down from my Junior High School, and there had probably been sixty kids there just from my school that I could identify. So I'd figured that the evening was the time to get with your friends and chill at the mall, even if you were just wandering.

I'd figured right.

The mall was servicing basically just kids our age--- mixed with a few patrol cops here and there, I noticed, as a lump formed in my throat--- and they traveled in their own little packs like they owned the place. I picked out groups and cliques that kept reappearing: the hispanic gangstas, all moved up from Mexico, chortling in fast Spanish as they waddled past in tents you would usually call shorts and a T-shirt, false medallions and plastic bling strung about their necks in glistening, clinking layers. Then there were the skaters, of course, the most common crowd to spot, with their tight, tight jeans and massive shoes--- or baggy kakki pants, it ranged--- meandering with their girlfriends who wore their sweaters backwards on their arms and had hair cropped short and spiked in all directions. Others were the divas, outrageously in fashion, carrying armloads of bags all advertising different brands of clothing; the punks, with their turquoise mohawks and enough peircings in their eyebrows, tongues, ears, nostrils, you name it, to put Seth to shame; and then the goths, literally dragging ten pounds of chains hanging off their pants and sauntering around the guitar shops, murmuring amongst themselves with dark, violet smirks.

The variety was like being back in school: I suddenly expected to have a book bag slung about my shoulders, to be headed down another long hallway to some boring class.

Then Simone clipped my arm, and steered us towards a snack shack, and I knew this was different. I smiled, and it felt different.

Simone and I got giant pretzels with nacho-cheese dip while A.J. picked a large bucket of popcorn soaked to the kernel in butter. (You should have seen the clerk's face when A.J. kept prodding her to pour on more butter, more, more, _mooooore_...) We drifted past the different stores, catching lines of different background songs, whiffs of rubber from different shoe brands... Our reflections passed as morphing mirages on the peach marble floor, the overhead lights reflecting as tiny suns every five steps or so. As we turned into the more dainty sections, where men's tuxedos and women's dresses were sold, Natalie and King Cole's _Unforgettable _waltzed into our ears, accompanied by the overwhelming scent of cologne and the knocking of passing high-heels...

We made quick detours through all the dummies dressed in suits and ties, getting a taste of _Unforgettable_'s saxophone interlude before we emerged back into teen street: the distant laughter of the food court rose like the waves beneath my bedroom window. NSYNC partied in the intercoms over our heads, and Simone and I laughed as A.J. broke into hip hop dance steps as we walked.

We bypassed the food court and wondered off towards the escalators. Once up on the second floor, a plethora of sports equipment spilled out before us as one big open shop. Simone and A.J. hurried forward eagerly, while I hung back at my own comfortable pace, glancing around at the other shops lining the halls. One, I noticed, was devoted strictly to _Teen Rev_ magazine. I spotted a life size, cardboard cutout of the rookie motorcycler, his front wheel jerked up towards us, the handle bars twisted in an aggressive turn. The rider wore the usual racing body suit, blue and red and checkered with insignias, and of course, the helmet and dark visor blacking out any expression his face may hold. That large bill board was all I could make out detail for detail from my distance, but I didn't bother to go over and pick out a magazine. It would be much funner following Simone and A.J. around and laughing at their sport obsessiveness than growing one of my own.

We spent around twenty minutes sauntering through the clothing, different football and soccer outfits, Simone drooling over anything with the number '43' on it... Her voice breathless with excitement, she'd say, "Luther Tennison, Senior: he's number 43 in the varsity leagues, he's---"

"A freakin' babe, we know," was A.J.'s cool interruption.

A few more minutes of mingling brought us this: A.J. had dressed up like a full-fledged NHL goalie by the time Simone and I caught up with him somewhere in the back. He had the stick and everything, he'd even put on all the padding... Simone disapproved at first, but when he started attempting to walk steadily in the ice skates, we had to burst into laughter and root for him.

It wasn't long after before we'd been spotted by the employees, and we'd had to shed him of his costume as fast as we could before we got busted, or worse, charged for any "damaged" material. But it was all good; we made it out alive and without a penny spent.

Two hours flew by like the shifting moods of music as we drifted from wing to wing, and we wouldn't have known it had our stomachs not been so precisely commandeering the clock of our appetite. We took off to the food courts, chortling about past jokes or incidents, once or twice mentioning Holden or Tameron and how much they would have loved to come with us.

The food court was busy with the whole assortment of teen cliques: a large group of skater boys/girls congregated over by the Subway conduit, laughing and talking loudly. I could see the employees eye them warily every time a new joke broke laughter from all of them. As we neared them, I caught a few of the jokes myself, and couldn't help chuckling secretly at the punch line while Simone rolled her eyes and A.J. full-on laughed as the others did.

A.J. slipped into the Panda Express line while Simone and I decided to grab some pizza. In the longer wait at Sizzler's, we could sit back and watch the bustling young people come and go. The lights were dimmed: Chinese lanterns died different colors--- hues of purple, of gold, blue, green, pink--- all set a diner-like mood over the dozens of round tables. The music in the background was a soft rock ballad. I think the workers had handled this crowd before, and new what tunes would make what cliques the most manageable at this hour. _If we can lull to sleep as many of them as possible..._

Simone sighed, scratching her head, then turned to me.

"So, Kade."

"So, Simone."  
"No seriously," she said, and smiled mischievously. She turned to me, folding her hands in a buisness-like gesture over her chest.

"Tell me honestly, okay?"  
I blinked, smiling warily. "Tell you what?"  
"No, no, just promise. Tight?"  
"Okay..." If it was Simone rolling the dice, what did I have to lose? "Promise."  
"Okay." She wet her lips, excited, and launched forward.

"Zane Ashborne likes you, right?"  
I blinked again, this time with quite a different emotion.

"What?"  
"And you like him, yeah?"  
"Woah, hold on---" This wasn't Simone, and the earwigs had turned into butterflies inside my stomach. Soon, I wouldn't have an appetite if they kept up their crazy crush dances. Zane was... just a friend! Honestly.

SO DO YOU SIX-LEGGED FIENDS WANT TO TURN THAT MUSIC DOWN?!

That's better.

Ergh...

"I don't know," I said hastily before she could push it any harder, then caught the trap that would land me in.

"No, I _do_ know," I corrected myself firmly. "We're buddies, that's it---"  
"All right..." she said it slowly, looking away, like she was cooking up a new plan. I watched her nervously.

"Simone, honestly---"  
"No, no, wait, listen, because I've just had an epiphany."  
I groaned internally.

(Would it be the same epiphany you had back in San Clemente on the beach, basking in Zane's presence?)

Heaven forbid she should ever know about that.

"Look." She turned back to me eagerly, using her hands to illustrate her words.

"What if the jeans you got in your locker---"  
Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no, here it comes---

"---were from _Zane_?"  
I responded how I should have.

"_What_?" I burst into laughter. "Are you kidding me? Zane is the _last_ person on the _earth_ who would read _Teen Rev_, let alone actually _do_ something---"

Simone shrugged, and it was so disarming I had to stop, scowling.

"You never know!" she said gleefully.

"No, no, this time, I do," I said, shaking my head. "The jeans aren't from Zane. And I've sort of dropped that thing, actually... No one's coming to get them, so why do I have to keep worrying about it?"

She shrugged again. I wanted to take her by those shrugging shoulders and shake her like a rag doll. It was clear she wasn't bothering to take seriously anything I said. Don't you hate matchmakers that act like that?

"Maybe that's the whole point, Kade," she said, leading me by the arm as we advanced in line. "You claim to not know what's going on in Zane's head, well, I say to try to figure it out."

I snorted.

"How am I supposed to figure that out? Incase you haven't noticed, Zane isn't exactly the Drop-Me-A-Ring-Sometime-And-We'll-Get-To-Be-Life-Long-Friends kind of guy."  
"Actually, I haven't," she said, shaking her head innocently. "I haven't noticed. He seems that way to me. Isn't he?"  
My face reddened, and from what, I don't really know. It wasn't anger: I couldn't really get angry at Simone. Was it embarrassment? Was I flattered? Heaven forbid!

I blindly ordered the same thing as Simone. So much for an escape from the stress life. I'd dreaded this would happen, that all the real world would fire up again at the back of my head.

And yet, deep in my gut, I was loving it.

---------

We picked a table over by the windows where we could peer out at the passing cars, at all the towering buildings across the street. The "homecoming party" had died down with the late hour, and now the whole city had adopted the mood of the food court in which we sat. The dim, settled music seemed to finally working it's charm: the skaters had died down a bit, but maybe that was because half of them had seceded from the gang and were headed off to stroll the wings a bit more. The tension started about Zane had lost substance too as soon as we'd dug into our pizza, and soon Simone, A.J., and I were engulfed in a riotous conversation of hilarious, embarrassing life moments.

I found myself halfway through the discussion thinking about Seth, and wondering what kind of disaster he'd had to endure at Gran's hand. I almost phoned the Red Cross, just incase they had to send fifty helicopters of canned food and bottled water to the victims of Gran's wrath. Seth would be long gone. I smiled, thinking of how coolly and probably indifferently he'd be taking it all, and how much more that would infuriate Gran. Or, I should say, how coolly and indifferently Seth was _pretending_ to take it, and how terrified out of his little right mind he _really_ was right now. It was a close game he was playing, very close, but I knew that was his territory, his climate. He could handle it.

Speaking of Seth, what time was it? Why hadn't he called Simone fifty times by now, demanding when I'd be home in time for bed? Maybe he hand his hands full clawing his way through all the rubble left from the destruction... maybe he just didn't feel like calling, or maybe, for once, he didn't care.

Or maybe he trusted Simone. He probably wouldn't trust me, but he'd trust Simone to get me back safely. Like a baby sitter or something.

I grimaced and tried to forget the thought, slurping roughly at my root beer.

Soon, I was swept up in A.J.'s talk again and forgot all about Seth.

After eating, we took to the east wing to do some more window shopping...

And soon, it was eleven o' clock, and Simone decided it was time to head home.

---------

The sky was pitch black, yet there wasn't a star in the sky: far too many lights down below. We were some of the last to leave the mall, looking back at the lights in the double doors as they were switched off like a deadbeat circus show. We, Simone, A.J., and I, mixed with other last-standing duos or trios of teens, spread out across the asphalt to the only few cars parked. The mall seemed empty now, quiet, peaceful. Asleep.

But on the other side of the road, it would be a different story.

Simone peered over the wheel at her headlights as she backed out of the parking lot and took to the streets. Restaurants and movie rent-outs that held out later than the super stores were still ablaze in neon lights; I realized most of the city was still lively and alert.

Simone chose streets wisely: I could tell she'd lived here a while, maybe her whole life, and knew when all the traffic or rushers brewed and where. Every once and a while about three cars would pass us, a flash of blinding light against my eyes that had already adjusted to the dark interior of the car. Simone remained apt on the road: she seemed calm enough, but I could tell she was a little more careful driving at night.

Ten minutes into the drive, when A.J. had finished making us laugh for about the umpteenth time that night, Simone rifled through the glove compartment to withdraw a silver CD with a blank cover and slip it into the car's built-in player.

Pressing the 'play' button just above the radio controls, we sat back and listened... and I was surprised at what came out. I was expecting the average teenager's selection: heavy rock, screamer, stuff to really psyche you out or get you nodding to the beat. But instead, a haunting, graceful melody floated across piano keys. It had a tone of sorrow in it's notes. It sounded almost spanish, like a latin jazz chart, but I could also identify the more dominant classical component.

"What's this?" I asked. It was distantly familiar, especially when the violins and the acoustic guitar entered. I had some guesses, all probably way off: Romeo and Juliet for one... It sounded like a romantic theme.

"It's _Theme from Love Story_," Simone said. "This is a cover by Henry Mancini. Have you seen the movie _Love Story_?"

I shook my head, then realized she probably couldn't see it in the dark.

"Nope," I said.

"It's pretty sad," she said. "It was made in the sixties or seventies, I can never remember... it's something my mom watched, and I liked the lead theme, so I burned it from the soundtrack onto this. The rest of the music is..."  
"Corny?" I guessed. I think I had a sense of it by now.

"Yeah," she laughed. "A bit. Have you heard the line... '_Love means never having to say you're sorry?_'"

"Yeah..." It was corny enough. Sweet, but... you know.

"I don't agree with that," I added.

She laughed again.

"Neither do I, but that's sort of the theme of the film. It's used as a punch line, really."

"You sound like you can relate."  
"Oh, can I..." she sighed, and I couldn't help grinning.

"So, let's hear it," I said. I checked the back seat: A.J. was listening to the music, clearly inattentive, twisting the end of his shirt around his finger.

"It's not pretty," she said, chuckling nervously. "But I used to date... well, actually, I was his girlfriend for a while... I don't want to bring up any bad memories, but you know Jace Freeman, right?"  
I felt my stomach twist like a snake had just decided to hold hands with my navel. I swallowed a sour taste and tried to force back the sting in my eyes.

"Yeah. I know him."

My tone was a little too brusque.

"Sorry," she said quickly, "I told you it wasn't pretty."  
"No, no." I shook my head halfheartedly. "Go on."

"Well..." She sighed again, sliding her hands over the steering wheel just like Seth did as she made a turn to the right.

"I thought he was a nice guy; he was really nice to me and everything... I pretty much fell head-over-heels for him. But... I _knew_ it would end in a crash, just something _about_ him... And it did. It just crashed... I still don't really get what happened."

And suddenly, before I could reply, before I could even feel a speck of empathy, of guilt---

There was an earsplitting, blood curdling _screeeeeeeeeech_.

A low, powerful horn boomed in warning again and again.

And two massive head lights stared right through the windshield into the back of our retinas like the eyes of a dragon.

They were coming closer, and fast. It was wrong. My mind slowed down. In those brief seconds, I was able to collect all the details like the sudden shock had enhanced my senses...

No. No, no, no, this wasn't supposed to be happening, not now, not to me and my friends... no, this didn't happen...

I heard Simone's scream, heard her screaming A.J.'s name as suddenly something slammed--- crashed--- against us.

Glass showered over my head, but the outburst had come from Simone's side---

"Simone!"

We were spinning now, the whole world spinning. There was an echo of collision somewhere beside us, but I didn't feel the impact this time---

The honks died, the screeching died. The world stopped spinning. Everything was still. It seemed we sat there in petrified darkness for years.

Then finally I heard the sirens.

And someone calling a name. I thought it was mine, but...

_Jace. Jace. Jace, no... no, Jace..._


	16. Chapter 16: Aftermath! Run, hide!

16: AFTERMATH! RUN, HIDE!

---

_Be My Escape Relient K_

Something was throbbing in the side of my head, right beside my temple, if not the temple itself. I winced. My vision was just black blurs all swimming with mixtures of red and white... I tried lifting my hand, maybe to massage the stabbing pain that was getting--- increasingly--- worse--- OW!

"No, no, don't touch it, honey. You're going to be all right--- Eric! Someone get that boy the hell out from under that truck! Quick!"  
A woman's voice, frantic, right over me... Not familiar in the slightest. My senses were crawling back, like a sluggish memory, some distant dream...

"Jace!" Hmm... _that_ sound was familiar... someone was sobbing.

"Someone help Jace! Jace, no, no, no, Jace! Jace!"  
Another woman's voice... farther away...

"Ugh..." My lips felt numb, like I was speaking with my fingertips over someone else's mouth, feeling my way through words...

"Eric, Garth, over here!" the voice above me shouted again, painfully loud and close, and then transformed into a coo. "Don't touch your head, honey, it's going to be okay."  
"A.J... Simone..."

"Kade?"

That voice was familiar, the only one yet so far.

"A.J.?" I forced my eyes open wider but still saw nothing, just the swirling black, intermixed with blobs of white, red...

"Kade!" A.J. scream's chilled my already frozen blood. "Kade--- get Kade out!"  
"Jace--- No, Jace, sweetie--- Jace!"

"Helen!" a man's voice called. "Who's in that car?"  
"The boy's all right..." the voice over me shouted, "stay there, hon, she'll be okay..."

"My sister! Simone!"  
A.J. was sobbing too.

"There's two girls here!" Helen called. "One's awake; the other looks bad. Really bad... where in Jim's name are those ambulances?"  
"They're coming," a man hushed. "Step back, ma'am, please lay down, you're going to be all right---"  
"Jace! Jace!" The woman wept. She sounded like she was experiencing far worse tremors than shock.

"I don't know why he did it!" she sobbed, her voice shattered. "He just drove right--- the truck---!"  
"Shh, shh... calm down, ma'am, it'll be okay. The ambulances are coming, we'll save him."  
"No... no, no, no, no--- _no--- no---_"

"Helen! Get the kid out of the road!"  
I heard A.J. hiccup another sob.

"Come with me, sweetie," Helen said quickly, hushly. Shapes were forming over my eyes. Fuzzy... but... colors...

"Simone! Simone!" A.J.'s cries grew distant. My heart leapt.

"No---" I reached out a hand, trying to reach his voice, an untouchable star in such a vast galaxy of confusion, of dream...

"A.J.---"  
"It's all right," a new voice said, a man's, right where Helen's had once been. This was a new voice entirely. I reached out desperately for the blurry shape he was, feeling a goatee, a soft cheek...

"A.J... Simone..."  
"You'll be all right. Just rest, relax. People are coming to help you, to help your friends. They're coming."  
A moan, off in that black world I couldn't reach... it grew louder, higher, until...

More sirens, lots of them, shrieking together, getting closer...

"Broc! We need stretchers over here! Here, first, the boy's still inside! Hurry!"  
"Please!" the woman's terrorized screams seemed to awaken more sense in the back of my head... all these soothing tones, dripping with urgency, yet straining to mask it, were like drugs, just brainwashing me further into this abyss inside my head. It was hysteria I needed. Hysteria seemed to sharpen my mind again.

"Please, get him out! Get my Jace out!"  
Several more voices, all buzzing and humming like lower frequencies beneath the shrill shrieks of panic. People shouting at eachother, hurried steps, the sirens still screaming as if we didn't know they were there...

I groaned, moving to touch my head again. A hand batted mine back down.

"No, no, don't touch it. Over here, Carol!" he shouted to someone outside the car. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, critical.

"All right, c'mere... we'll get you strapped down..."  
I winced, frustrated at my lack of sight. It felt like I had a dagger in my skull. I could feel arms handling me, moving me around, lifting me up... My head flopped back, weakened, against something soft...

I heard the ripping of velcro, something squeezing down on my wrists and stomach...

"What..."  
"Shhhh..."  
The man's voice disappeared and suddenly I felt the air around me; was I moving? Red and blue and blinding white flashed overhead, intermixing with the dominant black. My sense of hearing was sharpening faster than my sight. I could hear the muffled fizzing and scratching of walkie talkies, words I couldn't decipher flitting past in the frenzy of movement, of colors...

"Jace! No, no, I want to ride with him! Don't take him away from me!"  
"All right, ma'am, all right... Just climb up here--- that's it--- keep that bandage up."  
Her whimpers and moans were right beside me now. My world rocked, jostled, accompanied by the clanging of metal on metal... Then suddenly I coasted to a stop, lying there still. The air was warmer, the sound of a running engine beating as a bass below me... My sight was crawling back as if reluctant, like my brain knew I wouldn't want to see clearly what I normally would. More clanking of metal... I heard two objects slide into place beside me. Hurried, cramped steps, more like stumbles, rocked me again, and I gripped the mattress at my sides, trying to steady myself.

I realized, suddenly, I was inside an ambulance, strapped down on a stretcher, with two others beside me.

I knew I was going to be okay.

But what about them?  
And who were they to begin with?  
Not Simone... Not A.J... please...

"Simone!"  
It was A.J. again, somewhere behind me. My heart pounded, relieved to hear him well and active.

"It's all right," Helen cooed urgently. "She's going to be okay. We're taking her to the hospital."  
"Kade!" he sobbed. "Simone!"

"They'll be okay, honey. Come ride with me; do you know your mom's cell phone number? We need to call her right away..."  
Her voice faded. My pulse throbbed, desperation seizing me: I needed a familiar voice, a source I could trust---

"A.J.!"

But my voice was weak, and I could barely gather air into my lungs. I forced my head to the side, ignoring the slam of doors right behind my scalp---

I made out a girl lying still to my left, like she was asleep. Her profile was fuzzy, but I knew she was a girl... I recognized her hair...

"Simone..."  
Her eyes were closed. Her face was red... It was the light. The lights that followed the sirens, the maddening glow that was everywhere now...

Shapes moved above me, out of my reach, murmuring to eachother as suddenly the ambulance jerked into motion. My breath caught with the speed, reminding me of Seth's reckless driving...

Seth... Oh, Seth, I'm sorry...

Gentle sobs purred beside me. I turned my head to my right, wincing to order my vision to work properly, searching...

I made out the hunkering figure of a woman, her hair long and hanging like walls around her face, all the way down her back to her hips, into her lap. She was a shadowy figure in the red veil over my eyes... I could make out her face, contorted in grief...

I traced her arm, extended to clutch another, and saw she was sitting over another patient.

I blinked. That profile... I knew it, too.

There were darker areas on that face, hues of brown... That confirmed one thing.

That was blood, not just the light.

The ambulance hurried on, sirens aching overhead. I wanted to shout at them to be quiet... I wanted... I wanted...

His face flashed so quickly before my eyes, I thought I'd missed it.

Jace...

I knew that name, that name I kept hearing... Even now, it sauntered near me like a lullaby, gasped in quiet whimpers...

"Jace... Jace..."  
I _did_ know that profile... I do...

A sting shot up my arm like a jolt of electricity.

No...!

Think...

See...

No... Darn... it...

That's when the darkness came, and suddenly I slept.

--------

It was the first time I'd ever been in an emergency room, but somehow all the white details seemed to slip past me. I was vaguely aware of the peculiar smells, all the voices and hands, all the different walls that seemed to fly past... The only thing I really noticed was the light. There was just way too much light... And that was mostly because my eye sight was back, and now I was just exhausted and fighting to keep my eyes open...

If it hadn't been for those stupid pain drugs they'd given me, thinking they can just stick needles in me whenever they darn well please, I'd probably be bouncing off the walls, jumping from stretcher to stretcher, panicking over Simone or A.J. or...

I didn't have time to remember, to feel anything. I'd been wheeled into a smaller room, separate from the others. I realized three doctors were above me at the moment, hurrying with utensils, gloves, you name it.

I groaned. I might have octopus legs growing out of my ears.

"Put your head back," one doctor said softly, pushing lightly against the back of my neck with his fingers.

"I'm fine," I retorted weakly, wincing as I fought his grip. "Where's Simone and A.J.?"

The doctor didn't answer; he probably thought I was being delusional. He moved over me, his eyes searching his two companions.

"Kerry, will you hand me that... thank you."  
They exchanged some cord-and-patch that I really didn't want near me.

"Are they okay?" I grunted again, growing irritated. My senses had fully returned now, but my head was still throbbing.

"They are in good hands," was his cool reply. "What is your name?"  
"Kade Waters," I moaned.

"Kade," he said slowly, as if he were talking to a very young child, "we need to call your parents right away. Can you give us a number?"  
I felt a twinge of dread, thinking what kind of calamity this would beckon from Seth, but I wasn't going to be stupid: if he or Gran had been hurt, I'd be rushing like a raging lunatic to see what had happened too.

"My Gran," I managed. "Five, four, five--- seven, nine, nine, two---"

I groaned again as my head nearly split open. The doctor nodded, jotting down the number on a clip board he suddenly had access to. He turned swiftly to his partner.

"Levi, please call Mrs. Waters---?" He glanced at me. I understood after a moment of confusion.

"Erm--- yeah, that's fine. Her name's Jamie."

"Please call Jamie and let her know her granddaughter is here."  
"Please don't make a scene of it!" I called as Levi turned to leave. "I'm really okay! _Ow_!"  
"Lie down," the doctor said, pushing me gently again.

"What's in my head?" I grunted.

"You have a large glass shard lodged in your scalp," the doctor explained. Usually I don't think doctors like this guy be this cooperative, but maybe he'd seen I was awake enough to see through his for-the-sake-of-the-patient charade. I might as well know. "We're going to give you surgery to remove it. I need you to lie back and breathe deeply, please."

"Surgery?" I swallowed.

"It will only take a few hours," he purred. "Would you like us to wait five minutes to see if your grandmother will make it? I'm afraid that's all the time we can spare."  
"No, no," I said, giving up. "They'll be okay..."  
The doctor nodded, turning to talk hospitalesque to his companion. The pain in my head was increasing as my senses grew thicker. With any more consciousness, I'd start crying. I tried to force it out by imagining happier things, squeezing my eyes tight.

But whenever I saw the blackness of my eyelids, it only took me back to the accident itself, and I heard a woman's desperate cries for...

Oh, Jace... What have you done?

Was it Jace's fault? Even as disgust, loathing, crawled in my stomach at the memory of him, I couldn't help recalling some long, lost memory, one that seemed ages old, yet was freshly engraven on my mind...

_I don't know why he did it, _she'd wailed. _He just drove right--- the truck---_

Truck?

I wrinkled my brow in confusion and instantly felt a shot of pain ripple through me, centered at my temples. I winced, cutting a gasp off short by biting my lip.

"Shhh..." the doctor's hand was gentle on my arm. "Try to relax. You're going to be fine."  
"What happened?" I panted, still wincing. "Where was the truck?"

I didn't care if he had no idea what I was talking about. There was suddenly a desperate urge, a desperate _need_, to know inside of me.

"Shhh..." the doctor worked quickly at my side. Bright lights scalded my unprepared eyes. I forced them shut, still trembling with my want for information.

"I didn't see a truck..." I groaned. "I saw Jace..."  
"Her grandmother is on her way," a voice from the door said: Levi had returned, eyes bright and alert.

"Good..." the doctor murmured.

"No, sir, she's--- she's on her way down the hall right now."  
My eyes flew open as far as they could. I struggled to lift my neck, trying to see to the door.

"She'll have to wait," the doctor said, thinking fast, "We've used all our time, we need to operate---"  
"MOVE IT! KATYDID! WHERE ARE YOU, PUMPKIN?"  
Even then, I could tell her voice was already hoarse. She must have used lots of amo on Seth.

"Er---" Levi looked a little white, fighting between leaping for refuge inside the hospital room or being heroic and trying to fight off her wrath in the hallways.

"I guess..." The doctor bit his lip, just as unsure.

"Let her come in," I groaned. "I'm okay. Just let her see me."  
"We need to operate immediately," the doctor told me without looking at me, but there was no use in arguing with Gran at this point.

"OUT OF MY WAY! KADE! WHERE'S KADE?! WHERE'S--- NO, DON'T YOU TELL ME I HAVE TO WAIT, YOU---!"

"KADE! YOU LITTLE DEMON! I'M GONNA TEAR WHATEVER'S LEFT OF YOU INTO A MILLION BLOODY SHREDS!"

No need to tell you who the second voice was. Seth and Gran sounded a little alike, both shrill and hoarse, probably from the screaming fight they'd already had. I winced, hoping no hospital workers were maimed in the effort to harness the two maniacs hollering my name.

"Show them in," the doctor muttered anxiously.

Levi wet his lips, sticking his head out around the door.

"She's--- she's in here, ma'am---"

"MOVE ASIDE! KADE!"

I watched Gran's stout elbow slam hard into the center of Levi's chest. He fell back, grunting, as she burst into the room. She was in her work clothes, her hair wild and disarrayed; her face was red with fury, eyes swimming with tears. They fell on me and she gasped in horror.

"Kade!" she shrieked, literally flying to my side. The doctor leapt out of the way as fast as he could.

As she tackled me, I heard him call frantically,

"Be careful, ma'am, she's hurt!"  
"_You think I don't know that?_" was her fuming response. I gasped for air, buried in aqua cotton that smelled like grape fruit perfume.

"Gran!" I cried voicelessly.

"Oh, Kade, pumpkin, you poor little creature!" She was bawling when she pulled away to cradle my face harshly in her hands.

"YOU SICK, RECKLESS LITTLE DEVIL!"  
Seth appeared, steaming, in the doorway. Levi jolted at his sudden appearance, fumbling about a dozen papers and not giving them a second glance.

"YOU SAID NO COPS!" Seth bellowed, lunging at me. I think I almost wet my pants. If the crash wouldn't leaves me in smoldering ashes, this would. But the second he was in reach of my cowering figure, he seized me in a desperate embrace, crushing me against his chest. I caught the doctor's eye over his shoulder: he was white with shock.

"_No cops, Seth, I'll be fine_!" Seth hollered, right beside my ear. "You twisted little liar! Are you _trying_ to kill me? Are you _trying_ to make me go crazy? Are you _happy_ now? Because you pretty much won this time!"

"Seth--- I'm sorry--- Get off me---!"  
I pushed against his arms, but couldn't help feeling eternally grateful for them. He just clutched me tighter; I could almost feel the heat of his fury, the icy cold of his relief, sliding off his face he had buried in my hair.

"Please, sir." The doctor put his hand firmly on Seth's shoulder. "We have to operate immediately: she has glass lodged in her scalp."  
"Go ahead!" Seth barked. "Fix her up, hurry! Because when you do, I'm gonna give her the beating of her life!"

Before releasing me, he slammed his lips into my good temple in a fierce kiss.

"You little witch..." When he pulled away, he was wiping furiously at his eyes. He fell into place beside Gran, who was lifting her glasses to dab at her own eyes with a handkerchief.

"Guys..." I winced hard against the shocking stab in my head, "guys, really, I'm okay---"  
"You are _so_ not okay," Seth muttered back, shaking his head. He glared at me with watery, bloodshot eyes. "You are _so not okay_..."  
"Please put your head back, Kade," the doctor said shakily. He was still a little stunned from the affectionate reunion, hurrying to my side before Gran and Seth could move back and tackle me again.

"Watch that needle," Gran's trembling voice warned someone I couldn't see. I didn't feel afraid; I'd never been afraid of needles, or blood, or anything like that. I just didn't want Gran and Seth getting arrested.

"Ma'am," the doctor said to Gran, "we may have to ask you to..."  
"We're not going anywhere," Seth snarled.

"Erm..." The doctor glanced anxiously at his companions, who looked just as helpless.

"Guys, just leave, it'll only be a few hours," I said with as much voice that I had.

Seth glared daggers at me. Gran just assessed me as if taking pity on a drenched kitten.

"Well..." she looked with compromise at the doctor, who leapt forward to take advantage of her reasonable mood.

"The sooner we operate, the better," he said quickly. "She'll be just fine if we hurry. I'm sorry, but visitors aren't permitted during operating hours."  
"We're not visitors," Seth said icily.

"Let's go, Seth, it'll be okay." Gran's voice sounded as far from convinced as it could get, but she could come to her senses a million times faster than Seth. Quickly she bent down to kiss my forehead before seizing him by the elbow and directing him down to the end of the room.

I lifted a hand to wave feebly. Gran turned, looking distressed.

"You'll be okay, Katydid!" she called, wiping her nose. "Be brave!"  
"I'll be asleep, Gran," I moaned, rolling my eyes.

I aimed a nervous half-smile at Seth's piercing glare before he was eventually forced from the room by a sniffling Gran.

--------

I remember feeling the pinch of the shot, a painful pierce that made my eyes water. I remember, after that, the room swirling like smoke, all the walls melting together, fading into black... I remember my fight for consciousness before I finally fell into a dreamless sleep.

And then, the next minute, I was awake.

I couldn't see anything, and I knew I was crying. Sobbing, in fact. My eyes were wide open, searching, but I saw only gray fog. I felt the tears gushing down my cheek, soaking into the hair beneath my neck. It was the strangest sensation: I wasn't one bit distressed, not even sad, and yet here I was bawling my eyes out. I decided to try and find my bearings.

"Gran--- Seth---"  
"I'm here, Kade," Gran purred. Her voice was much calmer, much more clear in tone. It must have been a while since her last round of screams.

I felt her gnarled, soft hands take mine and I fumbled over her fingers, groping for what was already there. Like I said, I wasn't a bit upset, just confused. And impatient, frustrated: I wanted to _see_! It was the second time I'd gone 'blind' that night.

"Kade?" Gran sounded worried now. "Katydid, sweetie, it's all right... Oh, don't cry, pumpkin---"  
"I'm not crying." Even then, tears slid onto my numb lips and choked a cough out of me, filling my mouth with salt.

"It's a natural reaction," I heard a voice say. I recognized that voice... the doctor?

"It's from the anesthetic," he continued. "All patients wake this way. The tears will pass in a few minutes."  
"She's not still hurting, is she?" a new voice asked. Seth. A quiet, yet tense Seth. "Kade?"  
"I'm---" I hiccuped on a sob.

"No, she shouldn't be in any pain," the doctor said smoothly. "However, she won't have enough consciousness to walk for about twenty minutes... but that won't be a problem, as she'll be staying here for most of the day."  
"Most of the day?" Gran asked. She sounded hopeful.

"How soon do you want her home?"  
"As soon as possible." She sounded like she'd get violent if it was going to be any other way. I knew why: Gran had never liked hospitals, not since the doctors had almost killed my mom when she was getting a c-section at my birth. Okay, so that's an exaggeration, and it's not like I can remember details, but it's enough to tack onto her behavior now. I could tell she was going to lobby hard for any way I could be brought home.

I was glad. I wanted out. I didn't like or dislike hospitals, I just wanted to go home.

"She should be fit to leave around tomorrow evening at the earliest," the doctor said. "If that's how you would have it."  
"Tomorrow evening it is."  
"She'll have to stay in bed most of the week," he continued thickly, as if he disapproved. "She shouldn't engage in activity for a little longer that that. Her skull is very fragile; we found cracks along the side, near her cut, that will eventually heal, but only if her head is handled extremely gently."  
"That won't be a problem," Gran said, and the sound of her voice shifted directions, like she was looking at Seth. I smirked mentally. Physically, I was still bawling like a baby.

"Are you sure she's okay?" Seth asked darkly. It was like him to be overly skeptical of doctors, they of all people. They went through twelve grueling school years for this, what do they know?  
"As far as what we can do surgically, it's been done," the doctor replied. "As for the healing, that's up to her body."  
"Thank you," Gran breathed, caressing my jittery hands.

"It's a miracle she wasn't more severely injured," the doctor continued, his voice heavy. He trailed off there, as if there would be a finishing to the sentence, but he didn't want to voice it.

I felt a sick drop of dread in my stomach that made some of the tears genuine.

"Simone!" I yelped, and I felt Gran's hands jump in shock. "What about Simone? And A.J.! Where are they? Are they all right?"  
My lips felt like lead; I had to work extra hard to move them.

"Simone is recovering," the doctor said gently. I could only assume he'd had his share of all the patients since I'd been asleep. "She was awake last night, which is a very good sign."

"A.J. just has a few scratches," Seth said. "He walked away from the accident like it had nothing on him."  
"It didn't," the doctor said, and I could have sworn he was smiling. "And he owes that to... Jace Freeman, I believe is his name."  
"Jace?"

Before his name had left my lips, I could hear Seth's grumble of disgust, his long, bitter sigh. I tried my best to hold back my own, biting back more emotional pain, and commanded myself to feel concerned. Curious.

"Why?" I sobbed, yet the tears were fading now, and my sight--- for the _second_ time, thank you very much--- was returning.  
"What happened?" I was desperate.

"I haven't heard the story," the doctor said apologetically. "But that's what the young man's mother keeps saying."

"Jace's mom..." I mumbled every detail, repeated every word he spoke into my mind.

Woah, woah, hold on!

So many contradicting thoughts were fighting their way to my heart, fighting for reason, fighting for forgiveness.

Had Jace saved A.J.? Had there been a part to this we'd all missed, one only he was part of of?

(That's what they're telling you.)  
What if they're wrong? What if Jace is just a victim, like we are?  
(What if he's not?)

I moaned in frustration, and as I did, I could make out a creamy backdrop to Gran's shadowy figure above me. My vision was still rimmed in gray, like a fog, or maybe they were settling tears. I realized I was on my back. At Gran's shoulder, there was another figure, farther back. Seth.

"Where am I?" I whispered. It was a stupid line, overrated, yet it spoke my confusion so well. I had control of my emotions now: the tears had virtually stopped, thank heavens.

"Right where we left you," Seth said, and there was a hint of bitterness behind his tone.

"Really...?" It didn't look familiar. I must have forgotten details in that hazy, dreamless sleep, so deep, so sudden.

Something crept back into my system. I had no idea why; I embarrassed and disgusted myself by doing so... but I did it.

"Is Jace okay?" I asked weakly, fighting for my voice. Seth made a subtle sound of disbelief, but loud enough to snag my attention. And since everyone present was pretty much at my side, his effort for discretion basically went without purpose.

The new silence that followed was heavy, like a bad omen. I waited, desperation mysteriously and unbelievably powerful crawling up my throat.

Argh, what is _wrong_ with me?  
(You're asking how he is! What's so wrong about that?)  
EVERYTHING! He probably deserved whatever he got!  
(You know better than to feel that way!)

Stop telling me how to feel!

(Seriously, grow up!)

Do you want me to describe what he did to me? What he did to Zane?

(He just saved A.J.'s life! And probably yours, too, and Simone's! You're just going to let that by like it doesn't say _anything_ about him?)

It doesn't! What if he was drunk?!

(Don't _even_ be that stupid.)

I don't _know_, okay? I just _don't know_ what happened!

(Exactly!)

Well, I want answers!

"Jace is... also recovering," the doctor said. "But... much, much slower. I think he was crushed between two vehicles, yours being one of them. Again, I apologize, I don't know the story, but I can judge enough from his injuries."  
"Which are?"  
"Four of his ribs are shattered. His chest was hit the hardest: we had to force his heart to start again. How it worked with his broken ribs, I'll never know. His spine is also cracked; there's a chance he could be paralyzed."  
Something cold was climbing at my face, at the base of my back. It was icy finger nails caressing their way up my senses, sending chills in packs over every inch of flesh available...

"Can I see him?"  
Hell_o_! What in the world am I _thinking_?! Have I utterly lost my _mind_?!

Seth's growl was almost protective.

"Simone, too," I added quickly, and realized just how much I did want to see her too.

"I'm afraid not this second," the doctor said, and he sounded sad. "You haven't recovered your sight yet, I gather, and you'll need to wait at least an hour before Simone's operation is completed. And... I strongly doubt Jace will be treated as publicly as you have been. You may have to come back another day, later this week, if you want to see him."  
"How bad is Simone?" I asked, ignoring the twinge of impatience in my stomach. "What happened to her?"  
"I do believe you should know. Her situation is similar to yours, only a little more serious," he said grimly. "She has glass embedded all throughout the left side of her scalp. It's amazing, really, that not much has deformed her face."

At this, I had the strangest vision in my head: I imagined a force-feild surrounding Simone's pretty face, protecting it's slender, delicate features from destruction. And I could only be thankful, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.

"Her arm is also in critical condition," the doctor continued. "Her ulna is snapped in two."

I shuddered. "She'll be okay, won't she?"  
"She should be, after a few days or so... You were the luckiest of all the cases, I could say confidently."  
I felt my eyes burn.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," I murmured. I felt Gran stroking my cheek.

"We have very gifted scientists here," the doctor said comfortingly. "Trust them. Your friends will be all right."

But there was doubt in his voice, and I knew for whom.

"I want to know what happened," I mumbled suddenly, just voicing whatever came to my mind first. "The crash. I want to know exactly what happened."  
"Amen," Seth growled. "Let's hear it."

"I'm afraid I don't know," the doctor said again. "Chief Elegante would be the most valuable source. He may be dropping by the hospital to check on you kids this afternoon."  
This afternoon... then that meant...

"What time is it?" I asked feebly.

"It's Wednesday," Gran said. "Four in the morning. You were asleep longer than expected."  
"Haven't you gone home?" I asked.

"No," Seth said sharply.

"But you must be exhausted!"

"We're staying with you, sweetheart," Gran purred.

And I was selfish and relieved.

---------

I don't know how many hours passed after that. The doctors insisted on keeping me in one place: I was confined to the bed until they had approved I could leave. That being the situation, the whole experience worked a little to the opposite effect: instead of feeling pampered and protected, I felt more like I was in prison. There were only so many heights to which I could lift my head, only so much I could do with my arms before I had to rest them and let blood collect back into my fingers. I found myself rolling my eyes behind nurses' backs, and then feeling guilty about it. It was like a battle of wits. Did I dare feel selfish, stubborn? Or was I to appreciate and feel eternal gratitude for all these limitations?  
The whole surgery part was a no-brainer: of course, when I'd come around to the right level of senses, I'd thanked the doctors repeatedly, probably annoying them more than making them feel appreciated. It was only after that that I started to get overconfident, or maybe the word for it was _impatient_. I thought I was fine; I thought the bandage over one half of my head didn't exist. I wanted to see Simone, see A.J., see---

I swallowed, biting back all the good and evil that churned in the back of my mind.

He could have been drunk... or high on something... The doctors had suggested it themselves. I'd even heard they'd run several tests to detect LSD or other hallucinogens... but I _hadn't_ heard results. So the possibility hung there above my reasoning, like a piece of bread molding worse and worse, it's reek slowly filling up what thinking space I had left.

There was that, or... he'd done exactly what his mom said he had done. He'd done... something---I still didn't know the peticulars of the crash! Argh! It's killing me!--- to the effect of saving A.J., or whatever I was supposed to believe...

Why would _Jace_ do something like _that_?

I kept waiting for the doctor to stick his head in and say he could wheel me to Simone's bed now... But I think he'd forgotten. Maybe he was avoiding me. That also grew as a possibility as time dragged on. Occasionally a nurse or the head honcho himself would run little tests on me: I.V.s and such, the sort of thing to make sure I was going to be in the best condition possible when I left.

Gran had had to leave at about eight. She'd made this whole scene about how much she didn't want to leave, about how sorry she was that a mandatory meeting had been scheduled right on this date... as if the words 'Kade in hospital' had been on our calendar for the past two months. Seth had insisted on staying; he'd talked to his buddies on his cell for a second, explaining things in a tight, gruff voice, before sitting down at the foot of my bed and folding his arms. He'd remained there, still as stone, like a bird of prey waiting for me to die. He'd only left when I'd got sick of him staring at me and had asked for something from the vending machines in the lobby.

"Seth," I said when approximately ten o' clock rolled around, "seriously, you don't have to stay with me. You really need to go to school."  
"You say that like school has always been this important," he said dryly.

"C'mon, you dope, I'm not helpless---"  
He laughed bitterly. "Ah huh, yeah, mm hm. That's a good one."

"Accidents happen! When are you going to relax?"

He instantly changed the subject: he hadn't listened to a thing I'd said all this morning anyway.  
"I called your buddy Holden, but he already knew. He's coming over at noon."  
This shot my heart straight into my head and I couldn't help grinning.

"He is?"  
It would be like a visitation of an angel. Really, I shouldn't have been this excited to see him.

Ten minutes flew past in anticipation, but it was dampened when I studied the larger picture. I was the boring patient, the one that was fine and was going to be home in time for dinner. I knew he'd be ravenous about seeing Simone: for all I knew, they were brother and sister.

Around the time I was expecting Holden, A.J. had arrived with he and Simone's parents. The visit wasn't very relieving; it wasn't that pleasant at all. Their faces were all ashen, every one of them shaken from Simone's operation that had just lapsed half an hour before. Right now, she was asleep. They wouldn't really know her condition until she awoke. This roused my anxiety to see her, and my totally random and sick need to see Jace, so I was hardly in my optimistic mood twenty minutes later, after they'd left, when a nurse appeared in the doorway saying I had another visitor.

But all I needed to see were his auburn eyes bright with worry, and my spirits raised again.

"Hey, Holden!" I called, elated. I could see two adults standing shyly in the doorway: they must be his parents. Holden forgot them completely, hurrying to my side. He took one good look at the bandage around my head and smoothly cussed under his breath. I watched Seth, still carved from stone at my feet, raise his eyebrows, rather impressed at the word choice.

"Sorry, Kade," Holden breathed as he came to the vacant side of my bed, face still sharp with anxiety, "I wanted to come earlier, I heard about the crash last night, Simone's parents called, but the doctors wouldn't let us in, they told us to come tomorrow, and this morning we had to go up to Oceanside for a---"  
"You couldn't have picked a better time to arrive," I said firmly, beaming up at him. I noticed he was wearing regular clothing: jeans, a white T-shirt, and a light green jacket with the logo of our High School on the back.

"Really, I'm the last person you should be worrying about," I continued. "Have you seen Simone?"  
He bit his lip. "We just got a peek. She's still asleep. But she looks... okay... mentally, anyway."  
"How bad is she?" I pressed, growing desperate again. "What does she look like?"

"Um..." Holden glanced around at Seth, who was glowering attentively. He turned slightly so he could direct his words to both of us.

"This is going to sound super childish," he said, running a hand through his carmel hair. "She's got a bandage around her head, like you, and lots around her arm... argh, I'm really bad at this."  
"It's okay," I said, before Seth could interject angrily. "No one speaks Human Body unless they've had their nose in books about it for half their lives."

Holden nodded. "Yeah, lots of patches and stuff on one side of her head, then her arm is buried in like, five inches of gauze, it's really ridiculous, but man, I hope she's okay..."

"Me too," I breathed, my eyes falling.

"The doctors are saying she should be awake tonight," he continued a little more loosely. "Part of it's the anesthetic: she had this surgery that lasted an eternity."  
I sighed. "I really want to see her."  
"So do I," Holden said, nodding. "I need to talk to her. I need to ask why in the world she's doing this to me."  
"The crash wasn't her fault," I said firmly. "It was--- some other---"  
I couldn't continue. It was all still blurry.

"Argh!" I groaned. "If I don't get details in five minutes, I'm going to kill something!"  
"I second that," Holden muttered.

"I can call the cops," Seth suggested sullenly.

"Would you?" I shot him a sarcastic scowl. "That would be wonderful."  
"I really can," he stressed a little irritably, slipping his cell phone from his back pocket.

"Seth!" I was suddenly dreading the idea. "I'm just being stupid, we'll get it all cleared up eventually!"  
"Screw eventually," Seth grumbled. "_I_ wanna know as much as any of you if we're having Jace Latte for breakfast."

He flipped the keypad open. I lurched forward, startling Holden.

"Seth!" I hissed.

He punched in three numbers and held the phone, scowling, to his ear.

"Watch me," he growled.

Holden put his hands on my shoulders.  
"I think you need to lie down, Kade," he said carefully.

"Augh, not you _too_," I groaned.

"Your head looks bad," he insisted, pushing against me. I was watching Seth with rising panic. He had his feet folded up on the end of the bed, drumming his fingers casually on his knee.

"Yeah, Chief?" he said, his voice thick with dark implications. I clawed at my face.

"Hey, listen," he continued roughly, "the car accident last night, down by the mall? My sister was a victim and we would like the details of the incident, if you _please_."  
His voice was not very generous at all. Holden and I watched, growing white, as he rolled his eyes.

"Well, I apologize," he said, wonderfully sarcastic. Moving the receiver from his mouth, he muttered under his breath where he could stick "your investigators'" heads.

Meep. This was bad.

"Seth!" I snarled in a whisper. "This isn't a good time to get arrested!"

"Look," he said gruffly into the phone, glaring now, "I don't care what your policies are. _We want the peticulars_. We're not paying fees or hugging iron bars for stuff we didn't do, all right?"  
I clutched my head in my hands. I felt Holden's nails glide in soothing patterns across my back.

"Fine," Seth snapped after a long moment. "Do your thing. But pronto, amigo. Comprendo?"

And he snapped the phone shut, still grumbling under his breath.

"Seth," I groaned, "you are _so_ crazy."

"No thanks to you, of course," was his dry reply.

"I'm sorry!" I burst. "Things happen! But you can't go sassing the _Chief_ of _Police_!"

"Well, I thought as long as I'm going to get acquainted with the San Diego Force, seeing as my sister is a cop-magnet, I might as well do it stylishly."  
"You're so, so _stupid_!" I felt tears clinging to my eyes. "You should have gotten _so_ busted for that!"  
"Gran's on her way. She said she'd be here at one."  
"Argh! Stop _doing_ that!"

"Calm down, Kade," Holden murmured in my ear. "Do you want your head to split open again?"  
"No thanks to _Seth_, of course," I said with all the hostility I could muster. I felt Holden's hands pushing me down, supporting my head, lying it back into the soft pillows.

"Holden---!"  
"Shhh..." He stroked the bangs on my forehead. "Seriously, I don't think you should be using this much energy."  
"You can stop touching her now," Seth muttered savagely.

"Katydid!"

We all turned: Gran stood flustered in the doorway. Holden's parents were standing back, probably in concern for their safety. They had reason to, too. She was wielding her scarlet purse like a mace and chain, her glasses askew on a face twisted in anxiety.

"Speak of the devil," Seth murmured, "and he will appear."

"Hi, Gran," I called halfheartedly from the bed.

"Oh, Kade!" Gran scampered to the bed like she was being pursued by a grizzly bear. "You won't _believe_ that traffic! Utter _hell_, I tell you!"  
"It's cool, Gran," I muttered, feeling suddenly tired. This was going to be a long afternoon. "Have you heard anything about Simone? Or the crash?"  
"Nothing, pumpkin," Gran said, shaking her head. "Look at you, you look like a tomato! For heaven's sake, Seth, have you been driving her bonkers?"  
"Take a wild guess," Seth said.  
"He just called the cops!" I accused, seizing my chance. "He harassed their Chief like he was talking to a tele marketer!"  
"So bury me with my money," Seth spat.

"Seth Hadley!" Gran fumed. "What in justice were you thinking?!"

"Exactly that," Seth snapped back. "By the way, are you feeling up for Jace Freeman Rotisserie tonight?"

"Cut it out, Seth," I grumbled, shocking even myself.

"Or Jace Pudding?" Seth amended viciously. "We can borrow a cement truck, it wouldn't take long."

"I'll have some of that," Holden grumbled under his breath.  
"Seth!" Gran yapped. "Answer my question! Why did you call the police?"

But he didn't have time to answer. I don't know if he would have to begin with.

"Mrs. Waters?"  
We all turned to the smooth, gentle voice in the doorway. A superior looking doctor in the same white lab coat as always was watching us with mild interest. Holden's parents had backed out of the frame.

"Police Investigator Joseph Long would like to speak with you and your family."  
Seth snorted under his breath.

"About---"---(expressive adjective)---"---time."

"Thank you," Gran said, her voice shaking as she fought to calm herself.

"Come, Holden," a woman's timid voice said from the entry way. Mrs. Taylors looked as if she was protecting her son from the sasquatches she'd thought were the Waters family.

Holden look at me regrettably.

"I'll come visit you again," he promised.

"I'll be home tonight," I assured him. "Just drop by for a while."  
"Kay." He gave me a last radiant smile tainted with sadness to pack away before turning to join his parents. As they filed out of the room, the doctor stepped completely in, folding his hands over his belt.

"He'll be in in about three minutes," he said softly.

"All right." Gran turned to us, first to glare menacingly at Seth.

"Don't you even _think_ about saying anything that could land us with a harassment fee," she snarled.

Seth held up both hands, one signaling _scout's honor_ and the other with crossed fingers.

Gran turned--- apparently still trying to control herself--- to me.

"And you, pumpkin, you just sit and don't let them put anything on you, you hear me?"  
I swallowed. "Yeah, Gran." I really didn't want this to blow up into a sticky court battle.

She nodded, fierce, and turned back to the door.

I counted to one-hundred and twenty, and he was there.

Investigator Joseph Long was of average height, more lean than stout: somewhere in the middle. There was a wreath of brown hair around his head melting into a neatly combed beard. His bald scalp shimmered in the bright, overhead lights, and there was a strict yet kind twinkle in his black eyes. His gray police suit only added high points to his image.

He took one good look at me before leaning to murmur to the doctor, words I couldn't really make out. He nodded at the doctor's replies, as they flipped over different colored papers clamped to a clipboard, before turning to look at Gran.

"Ma'am," he said professionally; his voice was pleasant, reminding me of the British, "I'm Joseph Long, Chief Investigator of the San Diego Force. We've, uh, studied this situation, talked around to a few witnesses, and we believe we have placed together the true story... If you would allows us to continue?"  
"Please," Gran and Seth said simultaneously. Gran scowled at him.

"We can tell you immediately the mechanics of it," he said, brow furrowed. "There were three players to this incident: one, your granddaughter and her friends' vehicle, two, the semi truck and it's driver, and three, Jace Freeman and his vehicle. From one standpoint, Robert Cleese, the driver of the semi truck, was mislead in the dark, mistaking one road for another---"

"That's bull," Seth interjected. "The guy had headlights, didn't he?"  
"_Seth_!" Gran hissed.

"This _is_ a mystery," Joseph said apologetically, showing no apparent disapproval to Seth's behavior (lucky for him). "It is only what the driver claims, and so far, we can't find any other alternative except that... he came at your vehicle---" ---he turned his eyes on me--- "---intentionally."  
"Bull..." Seth murmured, shaking his head.

"Which is ridiculous," Joseph agreed. "Anyhow, with _your_ vehicle coming northward, it's west side would be exposed to the semi, seeing as _it's_ course was eastward. If the collision had been carried out, the child in the back seat, Alexander James, would have undoubtedly been crushed with no hope of survival."  
I felt my throat tighten, my eyes burn. To think of A.J., broken and lifeless... I never thought I'd get to those kinds of extremes in the course of my lifetime. It was stuff out of movies, books; not something you experience. I remembered then that those were my final thoughts before I'd lost consciousness. I hadn't believed that what was happening was happening.

Hearing it now, from this professional stand point, it was even worse.

"Now we enter round two," Joseph said, eyeing me closely. "You are wondering what the young man Jace Freeman has to do with this. I can tell you now that this may be a case none of us have seen before. But according to his mother's account, and from the positions in which your vehicles were found, we have confirmed that Jace drove his own car deliberately into the south end of yours. This propelled your car from the semi's path, placing _his_ there instead. It was then that the doomed collision took place: the young man's car was abolished by the semi, nearly taking his life. It's... quite a miracle he lives today."  
Silence reigned for a second, before,

"So what was he spun out on?" Seth asked, confused.

"Nothing," Joseph said simply. "Nothing at all. He was perfectly sober."

"That's crazy," Seth pressed. "Why in the world would he do that?"

"Seth!" Gran whispered. "He saved your sister's life!"  
"I think," Joseph said slowly, "it is referred to as sacrifice."  
"_Jace_?"

"Seth!"

It was impossible to control all the emotions bubbling inside me, zooming like frantic cars on a high way extended forever, throughout all my veins... their speed blasted in my heart, ripped along my senses. I wanted to be jubilant, sorrowful, ashamed, grateful... Like I said, impossible to control.

Jace had basically given his life to protect A.J.. To protect _me_.

He probably didn't even know who was in the car. All that mattered to him was that they were about to be crushed.

Or maybe... maybe he _had_ seen who was inside the car. Maybe he knew it was...

Simone.

_I used to be his girlfriend. I pretty much fell head-over-heels for him._

Suddenly, it all made sense.

And yet, I wasn't angry. I wasn't offended that my life had been saved just because Simone happened to be there. I wasn't mad that I'd just been another player, there as a side note.

I was so utterly grateful, and impressed.

And sad.

To think that Jace still cared about Simone enough to give his life for her? Now _that_ was the kind of stuff you saw in movies. It really had never occurred to me that two different people as young as I was could feel so _strongly_ for eachother. Was it even conceivable? Was this what really had gone on in his head, or was I just connecting wrong threads? What if my first theory was right, and it had all been coincidence?  
What would make someone the better person? They giving their life for complete strangers, or they giving their life for someone they loved?  
Love...

The word sounded foreign in my mind, like a new food. Something I'd heard about, and felt curious about.

And... I think I've already tried it.

(You know, it's not that bad...)

Tell me about it.

"I want to see Jace," I said.

Seth reeled like I was supposed to be dead. Gran, who really wasn't in on the story, just looked at me with soft eyes. It was one of those "I'm proud of you" moments. Eugh... I didn't need one of those right now.

I couldn't say I deserved it. It had only taken me this long to find out Jace wasn't _entirely_ a black-hearted creep. Wow, yeah, some glory to me. Right.

(Yeah. Key word _entirely_.)

Eh, heh, heh... not helping...

(Right, sorry. Focus on the _good_ in Jace! Good!)

Joseph nodded, totally not in on all of Seth's incredulity or Gran's appreciation.

"Yes, it's understandable. But I'm afraid he is in very intensive care---"  
"Sir?"  
It was the doctor. He clipped Joseph's sleeve, watching us all as he spoke.

"Jace has shown remarkable resilience to his injuries," he announced, in a voice that told us he was in awe as well. "He is still in very poor condition, but I believe he could handle a visitor or two."  
"Really?" I lurched upright, ready to tear through the I.V.s like spider web.

Seth cussed loudly, drawing startled blinks from Joseph and the doctor and a scalding look from Gran.

"Seth Hadley Waters!"  
"_Hell _no!" Seth hollered at me, shoving me back down. "You are _so_ not getting within a _hundred-foot_ perimeter of that sick son of a---!"  
"SETH!" Gran shrieked. "He saved Kade's _life_!"  
"You want to know what _else_ he's done?" Seth bellowed at her.

"Seth!" It was my turn. I yanked hard on his sleeve. "You can't always be protecting me, darnit! I'm _going_ to see Jace, whether you like it or not!"

"Please," Joseph said firmly just as Seth's mouth opened wide to retort. "I understand the situation. We are well aware of Jace Freeman's records."

"And there's another thing!" Seth raged at him. "That creep's supposed to be behind bars! What's trashing this place?"  
"He was given an eighteen-month probation period," Joseph replied calmly, yet a little tensely. "That is why his mother was in his car last night. He's not permitted anywhere without the accompaniment of a guardian or police officer."

Seth continued cursing under his breath, running a shaking hand through his hair.

"If you are concerned of him hurting Kade," Joseph continued, sounding slightly shocked at the thought, "I can assure you he is barely in the condition to _speak_."

"Yeah, and I'm just sorry _I_ didn't put him in that condition," Seth growled.

"Please," Joseph said softly. "Consider what he's done now."  
"So you're letting him off the hook, is that it?" Seth demanded. "You're just going to forget all the crap he's done and set him loose to do more?"

"His act of sacrifice _has_ had tremendous impact on his records," Joseph said. "But sentences must be carried out, and he will remain on probation as agreed."

Seth looked deeply dissatisfied. He paced, livid, clutching the sides of his neck like he'd just ran a great distance.

"Fine," he finally spat. "_I'll_ take Kade to see him. Where's his room?"

"Number forty eight," the doctor said smoothly. "Fifth floor. You will not be alone: he's not fit to be unattended."  
"That's all right," I said quickly, before Seth could make some smart alec remark again. The doctor brushed forward, and I waited as he swiftly unhooked what I.V.s were left.

"I'll have you ride in one of our wheel chairs," he said as he finished. "It's very mandatory that you move as little as possible."  
I sighed. I'd look pretty dumb, but all that yelling had drained a lot of energy. I was almost thankful.

"Oh, and thank you, Mr. Long," I said as Gran and the doctor each took an elbow to help me into the wheel chair.

"You're very welcome," he said, smiling sympathetically. "I hope you recover as soon as possible."  
I tried to force a smile, but...

I was suddenly realizing how not-smart this was. Should I think this over, what I was going to say, before I saw Jace? Would he be ticked that I was there? Would he even talk to me? So many possibilities... my head started to hurt.

"Mrs. Waters," Joseph said, stepping to the side, towards Gran, as Seth wheeled me quickly from the room, "I may need to discuss with you certain insurance issues..."  
The door closed, and I caught a heavenly whiff of the outside world. Ah, I could sing.

"Thanks, Seth," I sighed, leaning my head back on the chair and just breathing in the new air of the long, carpeted hallways.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, still disgusted. I tried not to let it bother me.

--------

The two gold numbers forty-eight loomed over me like an omen. Here it was, the last battle. The final stage of the test.

Man. Simone would be a lot better at this than I was.

Seth sighed.

"Did he say forty-eight?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. The butterflies erupted in my stomach, dancing Party Boy and snazz like that I really didn't need at the moment.

Will you shut them up, please?  
(No problemo. HEY! YO FOO'S!)

Ugh... that's good for my headache...

"Let's go," I told Seth.

He sighed again and reached forward to rap harshly on the door.

"Terminator," he grumbled as a pretend introduction.

"You've fantasized enough with the cannibalizing," I muttered angrily.

"I'm just getting warmed up."  
The handle turned, and the door gently opened.

In the entry way stood a young nurse with deep auburn hair. She looked surprised to see us, as if she'd been expecting someone else in our place.

"We're here to see Jace Freeman," Seth said dryly.

"Oh." She hesitated, it was clear to see, but then she stepped back to let us through. "Come right in."

Seth wheeled me slowly inside, reluctance sizzling in his every movement. The room was in perpetual darkness, looking more like a science laboratory than a hospital bed. Then I remembered what the doctor had said: intensive care. It made me feel pretty pathetic, getting all these visitors for just a scratch on the head.

The room had no window, and the walls looked metallic: another reason to think of this as a mad scientist's crazy experiment dungeon. There were about four people walking silently around in the back of the room, men and women, looking like ghosts in their plain, white lab coats. Two more were hunkered over a bed. All the lights blazing down on the sheets created this blinding whiteness I had to squint against as we rolled slowly towards it. I heard Seth clear his throat. The six or so doctors looked up, faces stoic and dark, sliding apart to let us through.

We approached the end of the bed, and I realized with it's elevated platform and my being in this chair, I'd never be able to see him.

I took Seth's wrist to steady myself as I climbed carefully to my feet.

The doctors towered over me like security guards, ready to stick a bone drill up my nostril if I made one wrong movement. Their glazed, emotionless eyes made them even more intimidating. Only the nurse who had greeted us had seemed non robotic.

I looked down nervously at the figure in the bed.

Jace had his eyes closed, his head turned away from me. His peaceful profile was shockingly innocent in the searing lights above him. He looked like a little child.

I tore my eyes away from his face, slightly disappointed he was asleep, and instead examined his body.

There was a large, white brace around his chest, like a life vest, holding his breathing cycle carefully in place. I.V.s speckled his sleek, tan arms, a dozen or so cords trailing out into complicated-looking appliances and scanners set around him... it was definitely a mad scientist's lab. Surprisingly, there was nothing supporting his neck... but then I realized he was lying on a carefully elevated slab of styrofoam placed atop the mattress: this could only account for his back.

I looked back up at his face, trying to forget immediately how badly he was hurt. Glancing at the doctor for consent first, I reached out to brush gently aside the long, dark bangs lying across his brow. Cuts littered the left side of his face, one bandaged as mine was. The cuts continued like scattered blades of crimson grass, some as long as my fingers, down the gentle curve of his neck, his jaw...

Something knotted hard in my throat and I fought instant tears.

What in the world is going _on_ with me?  
Seth's breath caught. I looked instantly at Jace's eyes: what else would start Seth? A hot nurse passing by?

Jace's eyes fluttered open, and his head turned slowly. I realized then the tubes leading into his nostrils, feeding him oxygen. It made my stomach sink lower.

A monitor leapt to life, a mellow, ominous beeping I could only guess was his heart beat.

I saw a gloved hand rest comfortingly on his shoulder, like restraining an outburst.

Jace started up at me through the light, as if his eyes had already adjusted. Ah, that face... How many things can you feel at once without exploding?  
He blinked, and I didn't blame him. Seth was deathly silent, even when a subtle smirk crossed Jace's creamy lips.

"Hey, kid," he whispered.

His voice was so weak, so drained, yet so warm. It's rich tone was gone, yes, but it's style, it's attitude... It was all still there. I found myself twitching for a smile, like it was the first day I'd met him all over again.

"Hi, Jace," I murmured back, pulling my hand back from his hair. Wow, I was weaker than I thought... My eyes were stinging, blurring him for an instant. Seriously, Kade, get a grip.

"Um..." Now... _how_ did I plan to do this again? _What_ was I doing? His smirk was so disarming... darn it!

"Jace, you..." I sniffed, clawing my thigh with my other hand.

No crying, no crying, no crying, WHY THE FUDGE WOULD YOU START CRYING RIGHT NOW?!

"How are you feeling?" I finally managed, biting my lip instantly to keep it from trembling.

He closed his eyes, sighing, swaying his head ever so slightly as if to suggest a shrug.

"I..." I hurried on, trying to ignore the constant presence of the doctors. Hey, I'd been warned...

"This is going to sound really, really, _really_ childish," I finally said, deciding to use Holden's words. I didn't want to be simple now; I wanted to suddenly have this grand vocabulary, break out into this award-winning monologue about how grateful and confused I was about what he'd done.

Yeah, right.

"How old are you?" he whispered suddenly, amused.

I blinked. "What? Sixteen."  
"Then you're not an adult yet, are you?" He smirked again, so very gently, like his face would break if he strained it too hard.

I couldn't help feeling warmed, relieved... ugh, enough about what I'm feeling! I can only go on so much about that!

"I guess so..." I whispered, smiling, and the tears sprang again to threaten my dignity.

NOOOOOOOOOO!

"Um..." I fought them as hard as I could: it was one of those pathetic moments in the movies. This felt so much like a soap opera... oh my gosh, just let it out, Kade!

"Thank you," I whispered quickly. "Thank you for saving A.J.--- I can't believe--- I can't even---"

I reached up to wipe fiercely at my eyes, sniffling like a baby.

"Kade."  
I felt his fingers close around my knuckles, a blanket over a shivering body. I sniffed again, pulling back in slight surprise to stare at him.

Behind me, I felt Seth stiffen.

I ignored him with earnest.

"I've been a really big..." Jace trailed off, glancing over my shoulder.

Taking his cue with pleasure, Seth shrugged and suggested a rather obscene title he'd been anxious to use.

Jace smirked stiffly. "Yeah. That."

I choked on a sob, or on a laugh, I wasn't sure. I felt Seth loosen a tad, a low, almost inaudible sigh escaping his lips.

"Um..." Now, how do I respond to _that_?

"Yes, I have," he answered for me. "And now it's the part where I tell you I'm sorry."  
I sniffed again, wiping furiously at my eyes with the hand he wasn't holding. I felt _Seth's_ hand on my shoulder; whether protectively or comfortingly, I didn't really want to know.

"You shouldn't thank me for anything," Jace continued in wasted whispers. "Honestly, do you really think I deserve it?"  
"You--- you saved A.J.---"  
"I drove in front of a truck," he corrected. "Pretty stupid, yeah?"  
"No," I said, shaking my head. "No."

He watched me fondly still, something sparkling in the back of his gaze. I couldn't quite imagine what it was.

"I say you continue hating my guts," he said gently. "I think it's better that way. You don't need to be hurt any more than you already are."  
"I don't hate you," I said irritably, glaring as I shook my head. "Don't be stupid."  
"Too late," he said, and chuckled gently.

"Doesn't that hurt?" I whispered urgently, glancing at his chest brace. I would think speaking would be like sticking a knife in his cartilage.

"Not really," he replied genuinely. "Not when I'm distracted."  
I just gazed at him; he was drinking me up through a straw.

I had no idea how to react to that.

"Do me a favor?" he whispered.

I nodded. "Sure."

"Don't accept my apology," he murmured, "until I've given it about a million times. Cool?"  
I couldn't help smiling. "Okay."  
He smirked wider.

"That's for everything. Anything I've ever done to you."  
"Right..." And then I thought of something. "But how about a few of those go to some _other_ people, too?"

He closed his eyes briefly in a nod.

"I've got a list," he said. "Promise."

But then his face darkened.

"And..."  
His eyes dropped, and his smirk faded.

"What?" I whispered.

He sighed, wincing slightly. A doctor's white-gloved hands adjusted straps on his brace while another touched his forehead.

"How's Simone?" he asked finally, looking up at me.

Behind me, Seth stiffened again. I bit my lip, my heart sinking.

"I haven't seen her yet. I'm sorry."  
He nodded slightly again, looking back down.

"I'd... like to talk to her."

Seth exhaled a little louder through his nose.

"I think she'd..." I searched for the right words. "I think she'd appreciate that."  
"Tell her for me, will you?" Jace asked, eyes glittering. "If you see her before I do, which is likely."

"Sure," I said instantly, but then regretted it. I was leaving tonight.

Well, that didn't matter. I was seeing her today before I left and that was that.

I heard Jace chuckle softly, and I glanced at him.

"What is it?" I whispered.

He was smiling gently, looking down again. His long, dark lashes cast shadows over his face.

"I just find it strange... you're not hacking me to pieces right now."  
"You're already in pieces," I reminded him.

He grinned.


	17. Chapter 17: My Beloved Rookie and Me

17: MY BELOVED ROOKIE AND ME

---

_Beautiful Disaster Kelly Clarkson_

It had been so weird to wheel out of Jace's room with just a "well, see yah, hope you get better soon..." Ugh, and to think he might be paralyzed...

Again, this was all evading me like a dream. Stuff like this... I guess I just have to accept this has happened.

Maybe when I see Simone, it will all make sense.

"See, that wasn't so dangerous," I told Seth as we rolled through the elevator doors.

"He's still toast," Seth muttered.

And it was then, as we coasted down to the third floor, that I realized...

I really, really missed Zane.

Huh. That's strange...

I mean, I wanted him here, I wanted him to visit me.

Well, that's natural enough, isn't it? He's my friend. What's so strange about that...?  
Did he even know about the crash? How would he react if he heard about it?  
Ah, great. Great, Kade; you're really brilliant. You don't even have a number or e-mail or... anything! What's the matter with you?

Well, c'mon, a little less claws. He probably wouldn't have a phone number yet; I hear connection down in Los Angeles is kinda on it's own sweet schedule. Especially if--- shut up, Burst Of Hope--- they were staying up there temporarily. I doubt they'd bother to have working phones for the first few days...

Besides, I didn't even know if _he_ _had_ a phone... A cell, I mean. But... the guess at a residence was better than a guess at a cell, right?  
"Seth?"

"Yes, Mrs. Freeman?"  
I scowled. "If that's what you'd prefer me as, fine, I'll give him a call."  
"Yeah, sure, over my dead body," he said sweetly.  
"Then give it a rest and listen to me. Do you know, um, where I could find a Los Angeles phone book?"  
"What? Why do you need one of those?"  
"Just, uh... to check out some sites, maybe call around to a few..."  
"I don't know if we'll be going to Los Angeles any time soon," he said. His voice reeked of suspicion.

"I know, but I'm just curious. I'll need plenty to do for the two and a half weeks I'll be lying in bed all day."  
He sighed. "You probably can't get one in print anywhere around here. But you could go online."  
"Great, will you help me? I don't really speak Google."  
"Sure."  
But he still sounded pretty disgruntled, even when we finally reached my room and were greeted by the best news I'd heard in days.

"Simone is awake now," the doctor told me with warm eyes. "Would you like to see her?"  
HOLY FAT CROW, ABOUT FLIPPIN' TIME, TOO!

"Yes, please!"

--------

This time, I can assume, Seth was a bit more enthusiastic to roll me just five doors down the hall to room eighteen. Though despite the good feelings, it kinda felt like I was going to walk in on a bad case of leprosy: the suspense was eating me from the inside out. I could only imagine what Seth was experiencing.

But, to my utter shock, when I looked up in his face, he was staring solemnly at the carpet. There was a glaze over his eyes, like something set up to block out any emotion. At first, I thought it was pain, remorse for her accident, her condition. That would make sense.

But when I looked closer...

Um... no, that's something else...

"Seth?"

He took a long, deep breath, and met my eyes. His gaze was hard, almost a glare. I turned away quickly.

Extending a hand, his arm casting a long shadow across my lap, he rapped for the second time on a carmel colored door. The knock didn't echo: it was like tapping on stone. Like no one was there to answer.

But then the handle turned, and I watched it intently, the steady arms of a clock.

Slowly the door opened, and the person who greeted us wasn't a nurse, but a tall teenage boy.

I'll give you the basics: he was wearing a navy blue zip-up sweater that hugged closely the tight form of his chest. For a brief second, I was reminded of the school version of Zane.

Something slipped in my gut when his name entered my head.

Anyway...!

The kid looked about Seth's age, maybe younger, but he was his exact height, if not taller. His skin was a warm, dark carmel, not entirely brown, but a more soft mocha. Mocha, that's it. I would have thought he was just caucasian with a really precise tan, but then I saw his face, and I instantly thought islander. His lips were husky and curved, his nose flat; his eyes were slanted, irises a piercing hazel. I expected a bouncing black fro to sprout from his scalp, or lavish volcanic locks, but instead his head was buzzed, just like a chocolate swimming cap. He wore a couple layers of puka shells, and for the finale, my personal favorite traits were his shark's teeth earrings. Awesome.

And I have to admit, he was really cute. Come on, all islanders are!

On another note, I was growing used to the fact that wherever Simone was, there was likely to be a small fan base of good-looking seventeen-year-old boys in her wake.

His glistening eyes fell on mine, and a handsome smile bent his lips.

"Hey, you here to see Simone?"  
He didn't have an accent like I expected: he must have been raised in the U.S. But his voice was pleasant and light, still very personalized.

"Yeah," I said, smiling back.

"Kade! Seth!"

My eyes spun immediately to the source of the voice: Simone was lurched forward in her bed, clutching her slung arm tightly against her chest, a wild smile on her face.

"Hey!" I got up from the chair so I could hurry lightly to her side; I didn't hear Seth follow me. As she laughed in delight, I draped my arms gently around her neck, still remembering her fragile condition even in my excitement. Wow, good for me.

She wrapped her good arm securely around my back in return.

"Thank goodness you're okay!" she cried. "I was so worried!"  
"_You_ were worried?" I pulled back, and couldn't seem to stop grinning. It was so relieving to see her in laughing shape; I found myself feeling surprised that I'd assumed she were worse.

C'mon, Simone wasn't taken down _that_ easy.

"But seriously, you're walking, that's a good sign!" she said with still a hint of concern.

"And you sound like you've never felt better," I replied, laughing a little at the irony.

"Oh, Kade, can you forgive me?" she pleaded, smiling now with sadness, regret. "I'm so, so sorry: I didn't see any of it coming. I was so zoned out. I was thinking about---"  
But she caught herself, wetting her lips before chuckling nervously. I thought I saw a faint blush touch her cheeks.

"Simone," I said sternly, taking advantage of her slip. "None of it was your fault. If there's anyone to blame, it was the truck driver---"  
I suddenly realized a crucial step to this conversation.

"Wait! Have you heard the details about the accident?"  
"Yes," she said, sighing as if exhausted. "I... I'm still kind of in shock about it, actually."  
I bit my lip, my brow furrowing upward. We both knew what we really were talking about.

_Who_ we were really talking about.

Jeez, if _I_ had been shocked, I could only imagine how Simone felt.

"Yeah... Me too. He, uh... wants to talk to you."  
She blinked. "You saw him?"  
"Yeah... He asked me to tell you."  
She looked like she wasn't sure how to respond.  
A half second passed, and then she cleared her throat.

"Hey, Seth! It's so good to see you!"  
"You too," Seth said gently from the entrance. I noticed he hadn't moved. I glanced briskly over my shoulder to see him smiling shyly. Once again, I saw that hard, sharp look in his eyes. I dreaded what it was.

But Simone seemed to not have noticed. She glanced over my shoulder for a brief second before turning back to beam at me.

"This is Mika Iupeli," she said, gesturing her islander friend in the back. I turned towards him: he winked at me with a row of long, dark lashes, then wiggled the pinky-and-thumb greeting at Seth, who smirked.

"Mika's family's been friends with mine since forever," Simone explained simply. "He's like my brother. And Mika, this is Kade and Seth Waters. They're really good friends of mine, too."

"Aloha," Seth said. Mika and Simone chuckled while I rolled my eyes.

"Samoan, actually," Mika corrected warmly.

"Oh." Seth paused, crushing his knuckles into his forehead. "I know this one... I know it... I do..."

"We'll let you think on that," I said; this could go on forever.

"Has A.J. come to see you?" Simone asked me, eyes bright.

"Yeah: today, pretty brief. And Holden came by too."  
"He did?" She looked disappointed she'd missed him.

"He came while you were having surgery," I explained, racking my brain for fuzzy memories. "He only stayed for a second."  
"I'll call him," Simone said, glancing around the stands beside her bed. "If I could find my phone..."

"Right here, Simmy."  
It was Mika: I was again caught off guard by his perfect English accent. His long, NBA fingers cradled a small, navy blue object above her lap. As she took it, he leaned down to gently touch the large bandage plastered over the right side of her forehead.

"How you feeling?" he murmured, and I knew he meant that wound in peticular.

"Better," she admitted, wincing as his fingers caressed the bandage's corners. My first thought was that if he wanted her to be in any less pain, obviously he'd stop touching the wound. But then... There was a way his fingers moved, and I finally figured it out.

"Mika, do you work here?" I asked. It was totally random, and kind of a bold way to ask my real question, but, surprisingly, I'd hit it closer than I thought.

Mika flashed me another attractive smile.

"My twin sister, Yvonne. She's on an internship. I just help her out here and there. I guess you could say she's giving me pre-Med."

"Oh, well, you can't really pass up that, can you?"  
We all chuckled, and I couldn't help lingering for a second on his mouth as he turned back to Simone. He had such a nice smile...

"Mika's brothers are going to be coming over at seven," Simone said, cheerful again. "You guys wanna come down and meet them?"  
I nodded, instantly enthusiastic, while behind me, Seth was _eeeerk_ing to a stop at the one flaw.

"Though... that's when my Gran would like to take me home," I explained quickly, "but I'm sure she won't mind if we stay for some extra time with you guys."  
Simone looked cautious. "Oh, really, if your Gran would want you home..."  
"No, no," I said, cutting Seth off again, "we'll stay. She'll be thrilled to see you well."  
She smiled, pleased. "Great."  
"Wear your hard hats," Mika muttered.

"His brothers are..." Simone giggled, "one heck of a party."  
"Let them come," Seth said, faking a yawn. I raised an eyebrow while Mika and Simone laughed. Once again, I was the only one unimpressed, or maybe the word was annoyed.

We stayed for... oh... twenty minutes, I think. I was surprised how easily I'd calmed down about Simone, and sometimes through our conversations I'd forgotten we were even in a hospital. I was relieved, really, at the outcome concerning Mika: he and Seth seemed to get along perfectly, and they had us girls laughing our heads off. They'd sat there for five minutes glued to a Stupid Pun contest: eventually Seth won, but it had been a very close match. Seth looked rather pleased with himself after that, the hard point in his gaze gone, and I tried not to make the wrong movement incase that would conjure it back. (Whatever it was.)

So like I said, about twenty or thirty minutes later, the door opened: there hadn't been a knock, so I knew it was someone important like a surgeon or a nurse.

It was the same doctor that had sort of been in charge of buisness over in my room.

It's time I learned this guy's name...

"Hello, Doctor...?" I stepped forward politely, waiting with wide eyes.

"Doctor Rocum," he said, smiling gently. "I'm glad to see Simone so lively."  
"Well, some friends always help," she replied.

"And there's nothing I could agree with more," Rocum said apologetically, "but I'm afraid your checkup has reached it's scheduled mark."

"Oh, that's right," Simone said, slapping--- the good side of!--- her forehead. She looked at me with remorseful eyes.

"Sorry, guys, I totally spaced."  
"No problem," I said. I'd make sure to get here tonight to see her, though I must say any brothers of someone like Mika appealed a little too...

(Ah, Kade... when are you going to stop becoming like me?)  
Right, yes, about that... Sorry, but not sorry: I think I've found your weakness. I'll just murder you from the inside out.

(Hm... I guess this is war, then.)

You've just tuned in?

(Sort of. I've been working lately at getting you to think about Zane.)

I sighed. It was so crazy, _disturbing_ actually, that I was okay with this two-minded thing. You think I would have gone sobbing to a counselor already, melting like some thunderstorm of teenage despair over all their new furniture.

(Well? Your return fire? I mentioned Zane's name in a romantic context.)

If last night had been normal and dandy, I don't think you'd've any trouble getting me to think of him.

(Oh. Hm. Okay...)

I'm confused: are you _trying_ to make me _like_ Zane, or do you just exist to get on my nerves?  
(Well, setting aside what you've raged at me ever since I developed...)  
No, no, please, just stop.

This was getting way out of hand: I'm such a sap, aren't I? Yes, it's sad. The veins leading from my eyes back into my brain were starting to ache; I'd probably rolled them fifty times.

"Well," I said, forcing myself to look back at Simone, "We'll see you at seven."  
"Right," she said, grinning instantly. "A.J. and Holden will be here too: it's kind of a hospital party. We'll toast to my sucky driving skills."  
I winced, smiling sadly. "Forget that part, Simone. Honestly, I might have to beat you. We'll see yah."

"See you, Mika," Seth said, and I turned quickly to throw him a smile.

"Yeah, nice meeting you, Mika."  
"Likewise," he said smoothly, smiling his elegant smile.  
Simone waved with her good hand as Seth and I filed out of the room. I didn't bother to watch their own little good-bye, if any had happened at all.

--------

It was seven o' clock before I knew it. I know, I'm a slacker, not about to drown you in filler. But I'll sum it up, just for the sake of creating the illusion of time: until seven, I'd done nothing but sit around for hours on end, listening only to Gran and Seth's petty arguments they tortured me with enough when we were at home. Of course, Gran had been ecstatic about the idea of a "hospital party"--- eghk, I wish Seth hadn't phrased it that way--- and had even suggested running to the mall and grabbing some pumpkin cookies or something. I'd kind of died then, assuring her it wasn't that kind of party. I doubted Simone would have her parents cart in a stereo and hire a D.J..

"It's just gonna be a little get-together," I'd assured her. "Seriously, like, no balloons or anything. Who in their right mind would want to remember this, anyway?"  
"I might," Seth had said with infuriating nonchalance. "Hospitals have really enlightening smells."  
I'd scowled. "If you want to cherish getting high on disinfectant, then you can take the time to write it in your little diary."

He'd grinned sweetly, batting his eyes like a four-year-old girl.

Anyway, so the "party" had pretty much been the whole point of the rest of that day. Had it not been planned, the focus would be getting home to my familiar room, with regular smells--- Seth would have been disappointed, the corruptee--- and regular food.

But finally seven rolled around, like it had been sitting and twiddling it's thumbs in bratty indecision about whether or not to show it's face. I was relieved, desperate to get off this dumb bed I didn't even need and get to my friends who really_ did_. I hadn't had a checkup all day, if you didn't count the overprotective, still-a-little-annoying-despite-my-change-of-heart ones from Seth every five minutes.

He was a pro at the wheel chair now, and while he rolled us towards the elevator, he suggested trying to spike some nice wheelies when no one was around. I dismissed that a little sourly, thinking instantly of Zane, and wishing I wasn't so attuned to his memory.

Gran decided to walk down with us so she could take a peek at Simone. She hadn't gotten to know her very well, and surprisingly I'd been the one to give her the details of our friendship. I thought Seth would be all over it, but for some reason, the instant I'd mentioned her name, his face had turned to unresponsive glass, like earlier in the day. But don't worry, it had vanished the second _Gran_ had mentioned the pumpkin cookies again: Seth had almost bitten her head off for not getting them. You know him, he'd be more concerned about the refreshments than the person in the casket if we'd attended a funeral.

Okay, maybe that was a little harsh... C'mon, we all exaggerate.

When we reached her door on the next level, Seth hadn't bothered to knock. I was about to voice my disapproval, but Simone's voice rang out before mine could.

"Hey, guys!" she cried from somewhere we couldn't see yet.

When we stepped fully into the room, it was like it had been hours before--- well, relatively, anyway. I'd actually expected a room packed with dancing Samoans, but instead...

Simone was propped up in her bed, and it looked like she'd previously been talking with Holden. He was in regular clothing again, stretched across a chair inclined on it's back legs, looking super tall with his ankles folded on one of Simone's night stands. His dirty-gold bangs shimmered in the overhead lights just like before as he turned in surprise to greet us. Our eyes met and he smiled brightly.

A.J. was at the far south end of the room, near the window. It was thrown wide open, letting a scalding white light pour across the already bright floor. He was situated at a table, leaning intently over a chess game. I looked at the seat across from him to see Mika also engrossed, but with a slight smirk on his stout lips. His chair was turned backward, his long legs spread out on either side of the seat, arms folded across the top before his chest. He looked up almost as quickly as Holden did, a light touching his eyes... maybe he'd been expected his brothers. But when he saw me, the light didn't leave.

A.J. looked up next, all these glances happening just half-seconds apart since Simone's proclamation of our arrival. Her little brother beamed, and there was a hint of relief behind his wide, electric gaze.

"Hey!" he whooped."'Sup, homies!"

"Hey, A.J.!"

I offered Mika an appreciative smile: he winked like last time, grinning handsomely. As I hurried to my feet, just to look less like I needed concern for my "injury", I turned to Holden. He'd swung his legs off the night stand and was rolling up the sleeves of his green jacket, the same he'd worn the last time I'd seen him.

"Hey, wait." I suddenly remembered something from the back of my memory; I had no idea why, it had just popped up. Maybe his sweater, or maybe my efforts to snuff as much attention towards me as possible... I dunno, whatever.

"I forgot to ask," I said, speaking directly to him. "How did the semifinals go? Simone told me we were playing."  
I said 'we' meaning our school, and though I was grossly handicapped when it came to sports, I hope it sounded cool enough.

He grinned, and I could see good memories flood his eyes. "That place bowed to us, man. We brought the walls down."  
"Awesome!" I said. I probably had no hope of fathoming any terms of competition, but his reaction was enough.

"Did your mom videotape it?" Simone asked with sudden urgency.

Holden waved his hand to dispel anxiety. "Yep, every second. Especially my thirty-three dunks."  
"Thirty three!" A.J. turned to gawk over his shoulder. "No way!"  
"Way," Holden smirked.

"Good," Simone said, looking relieved, and then her tone turned nasty. "I wanted to see it, obviously, but some boneheaded nervous wreck wouldn't let me come."  
Holden shrugged away from her glare. "It was necessity, I'm serious."  
"Right. Whatever. I wanna watch it all the second I'm in reach of a computer."  
"I'll bring my laptop by tomorrow," he assured her. "We'll watch it with popcorn and everything."  
"Sweet. You'd better."

I turned over my shoulder to see Seth stroll towards the chess game, apparently just as it was ending because in the next second A.J. had leapt up from his chair, his head clutched between whitening knuckles.

"No way!" he cried in disbelief, yet he grinned. "No freakin' way! What the fudge, I totally didn't see that!"  
I heard Mika's low, adult-like laughter.

"Checkmated with a pawn," Seth said, shaking his head. "Pitiful, Alexander."  
"Don't blame me!" A.J. snapped, but he was still laughing in amazement. "He was going with his knight, I swear he was!"

"Pawns pawn," Seth said simply, shrugging. A.J. went on longer while a humble and grinning Mika rose to his feet. He was about half an inch taller than Seth the Giraffe, but it was barely noticeable.

Mika caught my eye--- I was watching the light from the window play off his shark's teeth earrings--- and smiled. I had to smile back; I guess I'd asked for it.

There was a knock at the door. I turned, not really moving to open it, just being slow on letting the sound of the knock register in my head.

"Could you get that, Kade?" I heard Simone ask from the bed.

"Sure, yeah." I rolled my eyes, asking myself why I hadn't done it immediately like a normal person.

Because I'm not entirely oblivious, I was again expecting a posse of six-foot-seven Samoans to squash me into a floor mat the second I opened the door, but instead...

Gran's gnarled fingers clamped down gently on the handle, stopping it from swinging open all the way. As if nervous, she peeked her spectacles through the crammed gap to meet my eyes excitedly. I could see her shoulders, salmon cotton, arched behind her head in a cautious half-crouch.

"Gran?"

"Hey, sweets," she whispered, glancing over my shoulder, "I don't want to interrupt, I just came with a message."

I blinked; it was going to make me look really stupid, because the rest came really fast. Gran wet her lips and the gunshot sounded.

"A young man left a voicemail back at the house; I don't know about you, pumpkin, but he sounded _adorable_; he left his number, you can sneak downstairs and use a service phone, or use the one in your room, but I think you'll want a little privacy; I'd give you my cell but I gotta run, sorry, here it is---"  
She shoved a small scrap of paper into my hand, not missing a beat---

"Make sure to tell him about the crash, we could do with some romantic drama around here; ask a nurse for the address of the hospital, I'm willing to stay another night if he's willing to visit; good luck pumpkin, gotta run!"  
"Woah, hold on!"  
I lunged through the entry to snag her elbow before she could hobble out of reach. I could feel my face burning. Of course I was mostly feigning confusion, and there was only one boy I could think of that I would consider telling about the crash...

She looked back at me innocently, yet excitement seemed to shine from every wrinkle and every fold on her face like a lost bluff. I probably looked worse.

"What the fudge!" I hissed, still trying and probably failing to look as bewildered as possible.

"Seth's won't give you guff!" she assured me, like I'd mentioned it a thousand times. "I got a taxi to catch, Kade---"  
"A little more warning next time, please!" I spluttered after her in a fizzing whisper as she turned and sped off as fast as her ancient legs would carry her. I sighed, almost groaned--- strange, isn't it?--- and looked down at the paper in my fingers.

_Zane, 354 6771- MUFFIN MAN!!!_

I sighed again, this time in exasperation. Darn the expression 'hunk muffins' and it's wicked reoccurrence in my family's vocabulary.

Of course, that was just one side of me.

The other side, as you can assume, was somewhere near back flips; I can't really keep track.

I stuck my head back in the door, trying to beat back my racing heart so it wouldn't shatter the windows.

"Seth?"  
He looked up from the chessboard--- he's taken Mika's place to give A.J. a shot at redemption--- and twisted his eyebrows in unnecessary shock, probably horrified I'd managed to evade him long enough to get out the door.

"I'm gonna use a service phone, all right?" I said innocently, eyes widening with recent-agreements-related implications.

He blinked. "Er, sure, okay, just---" ---his face hardened here--- "use the one in here."  
"Nah, I kinda wanna take a walk; I'll use the elevators," I said quickly, nodding, drifting further from the doorway with every word I spoke. He hesitated for a second, and I took it for a yes. After that, my only problem was trying not to walk too hastily as I set off down the hall.

--------

I had to go downstairs to find the nearest pay phone. This lower floor wasn't necessarily the prep of activity, but it certainly had more white lab coats strutting around here and there than my floor upstairs. I could hear the muffled voice tones of probably a locating office just down my left, around the corner. I slipped quietly and swiftly to the phone, cream-colored and slim with a long, bouncy cord hanging in a loop halfway down to the carpet. I was surprised at how old-fashioned it looked.

Ugh, here I am providing description for a _service phone_. I'm really anxious, aren't I?

I dodged the eyes of a passing nurse, twisting my face into a confident mask, trying to look as justified as possible. It worked: she moved on past without another glance. Maybe I looked well enough to pass _for_ a nurse... right, if not for this stupid bandage around my head.

It's gonna sound strange, but I tried to douse my hope, at least a little. I trusted Gran, and I don't think she's too hearing-impaired yet to mistake the name 'Zane' for another, but it was just... It was kind of like the crash. Things like this didn't happen to me. I didn't have guys calling my house, leaving their numbers, nothing like this. I'd grown up practically Amish. (No offense to them; it was a convenient metaphor, I'm sorry!) Anyhow... I still allowed a smidge of excitement. He'd called, and left his number, and was expressing interest...

(Hm, my, my, this is going in a new direction.)  
I thought it'd been going in this direction for a long time!

(In your head, maybe.)

Gee, thanks.

Sadist pixie.

I swiped the phone from the wall, a lioness on the chase. Still trying to control my spinning imagination, I somehow managed to fumble the numbers in the right order, raising the receiver with sweaty palms to my ear.

Shut up. I'm workin' here.

There were three hums of the dial tone. I wet my lips, glancing around nervously, hoping I wasn't going to be intercepted by some snot-nosed doctor telling me this phone was for employees only or some other inconvenience I really didn't need.

There were three more tones, and then they stopped.

My stomach sank.

And then his voice, it's scratchiness only doubled by the fuzz of the connection, broke the silence.

"_Piss off if you're Jace Freeman. Anyone else, leave your mess at the beep_."  
I laughed loudly, turning the heads of a few distant doctors. Despite my changed feelings about Jace, it was still probably the most hilarious thing I'd heard in a while.

I felt color climb my cheeks again, just at hearing his voice.

There was a two-second-long hum, and then the receiver went blank, waiting for my words.

My smile faded. I then realized how disappointed I was. Oh, well... he'd call me back now, right?

Why wasn't he picking up? If he'd had time to call before, why didn't he have the time now?

Well, knowing Zane, or _not_ knowing him, there could be a thousand reasons.

"Hey, ZaZa," I said shakily--- WHAT THE FRACKER, WHY AM I SO NERVOUS, DANGIT!--- running a hand through my hair like people do when they're trying to look cool.

I so didn't _sound_ cool, _that's_ for sure.

"Um... I heard you called, so... here I am. Uh... don't call me back at this number, I'm... I'm actually at the hospital--- er--- nothing serious--- ub--- for me, at least. Simone's recovering, and--- Jace--- well, um, anyway, if you want to drop by... I mean, I know you've moved..."  
I groaned, making sure to pull the receiver away first. Strike one.

"Okay," I said, a bit more firmly, "scratch that. Why'd you call? I really miss you; give me a call at my home phone tonight, however you got it. See yah."  
I pressed cancel, flopping back against the wall and let out a long, slow sigh.

--------

At seven forty-five, Seth flipped over his king with one finger, leaning back in his chair and sighing in defeat.

Mika smirked and reached to collect the prize: a hand-full of Tootsie Rolls.

"Ughhh..." A.J. groaned from the floor. "I think I'm gonna puke..."  
"If so, you're in the right place," Mika muttered, smirking bigger.

Scattered around A.J.'s crossed legs were about a hundred or so Tootsie Roll wrappers, thrown open in disarray like he'd purged them with a search warrant. His belly poked slightly from underneath his baggy shirt, and he patted the tiny lump affectionately.

"But it was good," he hiccuped, flashing me a dizzy smile. I chuckled.

"Boys," Simone droned from the bed. "They can eat all the crap they like, and still don't tip the scale for half a decade at a time."  
"That's not all true, but I won't lie," Seth said, eyeing me slyly. I noticed he'd avoided Simone's gaze since arriving... Why? "I don't envy you ladies a thing. I've learned I'll never in a million years know what it's like to be a teenager until I've been a girl."  
As he spoke, Mika rose from the table, shoving the Tootsie Rolls in his sweater pocket with one hand and flipping open a black cell phone with the other. His sweater sleeve shifted back as his arm moved, and I caught a glance at a whole bracelet of shark's teeth around his wrist.

I turned back and smirked down, impressed, at Seth.

"Wow, Seth. What a sensible thing to say. In fact, I'm a little spooked," I added sweetly.

"Denial is definitely the safest place for you," he said, grinning.

About ten paces to my right, I could hear Mika talking enthusiastically--- playful arguing, I confirmed--- into the receiver of his cell phone, his tongue clicking to a foreign language, ridiculously fluent. Occasionally he'd drift into English, then jump back into Samoan to contradict something the other end had said.

At one point, he laughed pleasantly, and was still chuckling as he slapped the phone shut.

"Was that Miah?" Simone asked him, grinning as if she'd been following every word.

"The idiots're right outside," Mika laughed, stuffing the phone into his back pocket. "I was calling to ask where they were."

"Are you serious?" Simone laughed at the door. "Come in, guys!"  
Seth, A.J., Holden, and I turned with expectant smiles as the door was thrown open.

They really hadn't let my own expectations down for a second.

Through the door literally danced three massive Samoans. Their gigantic white shirts would work as bed spreads, black shorts just as baggy hanging down past their calves. Their skin wasn't like Mika's much, not his shade of Latté: instead, they were walking, breathing chocolate bars, all their own individual shades, like they had personal preference. The lead, obviously the eldest, was the darkest, a Toberlone, while the second was a degree down from that, more like a Twix. The last was more nearer to Mika's complexion, a dense carmel, like Reeses. The first two heads were crowned with short, tight, black curls, while the third's was buzzed like Mika's.

"Malo e lelei!" the first boomed. His titanic grin forced his black eyes into joyful squints.

"Aloha!" the second chanted, the same grin on his inflated lips.

"Bonswa!" the last called, in a voice more like Mika's.

"Malo!" Seth shouted, slapping his forehead. "_That's_ it! I _knew_ it!"

"Hey, guys!" Simone called gleefully from the bed. Holden took her hand to help her rise to knee-level.

"About time," Mika grumbled.

"Miah! Tao! Siah!" A.J. leapt to his feet in celebration, racing at the lead's belly. His long, powerful fingers seized A.J.'s arms in viselike grips and lifted him in a twirl off the ground. After one unsteady revolution, he set a laughing A.J. back on the floor.

"You're lookin' clucky, eh, foo'?" The Toblerone chortled back at him.

"Lifted that semi right over his head," the Twix crowed.

"Taught him everything," the Reeses said, raising a pink-palmed hand.

"Why don't you come visit the truly inflicted, hm?" Simone called from her pillow.

"Simmy!" The three of them chanted. I noticed now that they were carrying large, paper bags in their muscular arms, and they dropped them all in unison in the corner of the room before bounding in three, long strides to the bedside. As they greeted her like reporters glomping a celebrity, I stole a glance at the others. Holden was smiling comfortably, leaning against the post at Simone's left, and exchanged a few knuckle-to-knuckle's with Mika's brothers. Their attention soon turned to him, and through rounds of laughter they caught up on his recent existence, Simone offering much commentary along the way.

It was all very loud, like an actual party. I couldn't help glancing at Mika, he hanging back near Seth and A.J., clearly content to let his brothers rampage; he caught my eye and grinned at my startled, yet pleased, expression.

When it was all said and done with the familiarities, the eldest Toblerone turned his massive chest to me, the same squinting grin stretching his warm face.

"Who'a ya chums, Simmy?"

"Guys," Simone said from behind him, addressing me, glancing at Seth now and then, "these are Mika's brothers: Jeremiah," ---the Toblerone shifted his steps in the beginning of a dance step--- "Tao," ---the Twix shuffled through the middle portion of the move--- "and Sosaia." The last Reeses finished the jig and punctuated with a clap over his head. I grinned, charmed, and caught Seth grinning too.

"You guys wanna teach me that?" he asked.

"Be ready," Jeremiah assured him.

-------

The evening passed ridiculously fast, some lavish dinner from heaven presented to a gang of starving wolverines. The minutes were devoured in rounds of laughter, the hours wolfed down like unlimited second-helpings. Soon it was nine, soon it was ten. I'd done my share of pigging out through all the fun only figuratively, but by ten thirty, reality kicked in, and me sitting here using random metaphors didn't do anything to help as we all realized we were vicious with hunger.

On cue, the Chocolate Bros. poured the contents of the brown paper bags onto the table previously used for chess: there was a round of thunder as soda and candy bars and bas of potato chips cluttered what surface space was available. It had reminded me sometime back at eight forty-five when Jeremiah and Tao had been teaching Seth steps of a haka, and three nurses had burst into the room armed to the teeth with pain medications, thinking the grunts and rhythmic stomping had been Simone having fatal stomach convulsions.

But it hadn't dampened the party: in fact, it had just provided us with yet another thing to laugh about until we were all going to have to call home for new pairs of pants.

So anyway, around ten thirty or so--- like I said, time's delectable--- we'd launched ourselves into the year's supply of junk the Chocolates had provided. Seth and A.J. were in heaven, sprawled out on the hard floor, flooded in open bags and twisted wrappers of Laffy Taffys and Funyuns; Jeremiah and Sosaia had taken up a chugging contest with the root beer while Simone, Holden, Mika, Tao and I observed, wiser than the others, trying to concentrate on portioning ourselves.

As Sosaia triumphed, Jeremiah coughed up his last gulp onto his shirt, spluttering in a fast French-like language to his gloating brother. The language intrigued me, and I rifled my mind for what information I'd managed to care about through my Language classes.

When inspiration hit me, I leaned into Mika's ear (closeness was necessary since it was hard to hear anything over the soda match below us) and asked,

"Is that Creole?"

He turned to smile at me.

"Bonjou konpe-m, ka ou fé?" His tongue raced over the words in one choppy, amazingly fluent mouthful.

I blinked. "Huh?"

We laughed together.

"Ughhh," Seth groaned, smiling like a Buddha, still lying stupidly on his back. "I'm beached," he said, patting his stomach. "Good luck, anyone?"  
"Luck schmuck," Mika said, rolling his eyes.

"How about some sports?" Seth suggested, rejuvenated at his own inspiration.

"Yeah!" Simone and Holden both chanted. I groaned.

"Great," I said bitterly. Mika and Tao laughed.

"Not one for sports?" Mika asked, amused.

"You have no idea," I grumbled back.

"Oh, DUDE!" Seth suddenly leapt into sitting position. All eyes flew to him, startled.

"I totally freakin' forgot!" he yelled. "_Sheet_! The nationals are live tonight!"  
"Nationals?" Simone asked, sounding confused yet animated.

"The bikers!" Seth persisted, impatient that we weren't catching on. "That rook on _Teen Rev_! Tonight's the blow out! Screw, man, why didn't I remember? I hope we haven't missed it..."  
"You actually wanna _watch_ that?" I asked, a little more than irritated now.

"I wanna see him wipe out," Seth corrected, sprinting for the remote to the T.V. that was snuggled just between it and it's connected VCR. "Anyone with a rep like his needs to biff it sometime."  
"Wow," I said, shaking my head and folding my arms, "that is a true fan's spirit, Seth."  
He smirked. "I know." And he lifted the remote to switch on the T.V. A static sizzled through the air as the receiver blinked to life.

"Bikers?" Sosaia asked, confused, watching Seth. "Like, Lance Armstrong?" He looked greatly bored at the idea of _that_ on T.V.  
"_Motor_bikes, foo'," Jeremiah snapped. "You know, like Pauli's!"  
"Oh, those!" Sosaia broke into a grin. "Click it, cracka."  
"I'm getting there, I'm getting there..." Seth buzzed through the channels. "Forty-seven, forty-seven..."  
Wait, forty-seven? Huh. For some reason I had this... vague memory in the back of my head. Something to do with Zane. Why did I think he'd mentioned forty-seven before? How freakin' random am I tonight?

(Zane doesn't count as random.)

Thanks for reminding me.

Pest.

"Ah, here it is!"

I looked up as a channel finally flickered to life, and stayed there, instead of being terminated by the firm press of Seth's thumb. In front of me, on the floor, Jeremiah, Sosaia, Tao, and Mika all lowered themselves side by side, stretching their legs out and crossing their ankles all in unison. Holden moved to the end of the bed where I settled, still trying to pout myself out of the inevitable. He smiled at me with mock sympathy as he sat beside me, and I rolled my eyes. A.J. crawled eagerly onto the bed to sit cross-legged next to a rapt Simone, while Seth sank down at Jeremiah's left, crossing his ankles as they had.

It only took thirty minutes of commentary for me to catch up: after that much time of tons of boys zooming along some track on motorcycles, we were on the final round, down to just two contestants who would "_in this moment battle for all the glory of their blooming career_..." Sheesh. Drama.

"Yes, we didn't miss it!" Seth crowed, and behind me Simone and A.J. exchanged a high-five.

On the screen, the camera zoomed in on the two anxious to-be winners. One wore a red uniform, the other blue, both securely helmeted to hide any glimpse of their faces; both were walking billboards, insignias and trademarks and sponsors all plastered on their appropriately-colored body suits. Their names flashed in gold at the bottom of the screen, but I was too far away to make it out.

The blue guy was going first.

"And it's Zelweinger," the commentator said, probably biting his nails like the obsessee he was. "All he has to do is complete this coarse with practically zero flaws and he will be the National Champion."  
Pff. Around me, everyone was having way too much fun.

What really got on my nerves, though, was when the two commentators joined forces and began talking like big shots about statistics and other stuff that was just there to annoy the viewers. As they gibbered like old ladies, both practically shouting unnecessarily into their head gear, (though I admit the roar of the crowd was pretty intense), the camera followed the blue biker--- Zelweinger--- as he made his way to his bike, glancing nervously over his shoulder every once and while, waving his hand like he was communicating with a coach or something. I suddenly felt sympathy for the kid.

"How old is he?" I asked, directing my words to anyone who would care or know enough to answer.

"Probably sixteen, seventeen," Seth replied nonchalantly. "These are the rookie leagues."  
"Sixteen or seventeen?" I repeated, incredulous. "They can't be very good. You'd need a life time to look good on those things."  
Even now, I could see his dirt bike: jet black, messy with dirt, it too drowned in the stripes of different sponsoring companies. It looked like a reckless peice of junk, something really dangerous that Gran would have a stroke over.

Hm, actually... it looked kind of like Zane's, the day he'd given me a ride home... I guess Gran'd feel partial about it, then.

"This guy looks like a push over," Mika grumbled. "I'm not putting my money anywhere near him."  
"Look at that, he's calling for the refs!" Jeremiah laughed.

"There's a glitch in the ramp," Seth said after we all sat in silence to listen to the commentators.

"He's gonna bust a biff so bad," Tao chortled.

"We'll see," Seth said, shrugging. We watched for a few more minutes, then...

"There's a flaw in the ramp?" Holden repeated, skeptical. "They'd get sued to Mexico and back for that..."

"Bunch o' cheepos," Jeremiah muttered, shaking his head.

"Watch..." droned Seth.

Eventually, the ref waved off Zelweinger with some excuse about inevitability: the crowd made a big bash out of it, as did the commentators, putting on their 'uh-oh' voices and dooming us all to another round of jabbering.

When it had all been settled--- which had taken a long time, even for the sports lovers--- Zelweinger finally mounted the bike, edging forward to the end of the ramp. The camera panned out now, a whole different view opening for our benefit. In the background, we saw the pitch black night sky of L.A. beyond the boundaries of the stadium, the roaring all-too-close crowds on the edges of their seats.

A flag waved, and Zelweinger took off.

His engine revved ferociously as he plummeted down the ramp, then back up the other end; he was in the air before I had time to realize what it was he was doing. I'd seen pictures, but it hadn't been of him... It had been of the other guy, at least I guess so. And it was different watching it in motion and not frozen images!

Up Zelweinger went, and regardless he wasn't the golden boy, he still looked pretty freakin' good to me. His legs lifted from the seat and I felt a twist in my throat. These boys are so crazy! Before I knew it he was floating above the bike. With one jerk of the handle bars, still airborne with his legs out straight behind him, the body of the bike twirled in place, spinning like keys on a key chain. The crowd flipped out, screaming, as he lowered his legs right at the precise moment to trap the seat between his thighs, just getting his feet situated on the handle bars as he came down hard on the other end of the ramp.

From there, another stretch spanned, and he drove without a missed beat down the next course. This time, as he went up, he didn't level out in the air like I was expecting. Instead he forced the front wheel higher up, throwing the bike into a horrifying back-flip. I caught my breath; gosh, like I said, I'd seen pictures of this, but watching it was different. As his calves held the bike in place, he released the bars to stretch his hands high over his head... or, in this case, his arms would be dangling down towards the dirt.

He finished the revolution in just the knick of time: he barely had a second to situate his feet before he landed with a stumbling thud on the dirt, driving off about five feet to settle the engine.

The crowd cheered crazily, but his small fumble with the feet would probably be a jerk to him. Sure enough, the panel zoomed down on the table of judges, closely followed by the two commentators' own know-it-all opinions on the matter. Zelweinger was circling the ramps anxiously, watching the judge's box.

His score flashed on white card stalk: a nine point three. The crowd freaked, either in disgust or approval, it was hard to tell.

"Is that bad?" I asked absent-mindedly, probably coming off as annoying to the athletically attuned.

"No," Seth said. "The best you can get is a ten. But in finals... he fudged that one, the punk should have watched his footing..."  
"I think he's lucky," Simone remarked. "He mentioned the glitch... Maybe that compensated."  
"Or they just docked his butt for being annoying," Seth suggested.

Beside me, Holden chuckled darkly.

On screen, we suddenly were shown a shot of the red biker. I recognized him now as the one they all talked about, the guy who had life-size cardboard billboards made after him. Hmph. He's probably a prep about it too.

"Are they going for his facial expression?" Simone asked, unimpressed, as the camera zeroed closer and closer on his helmet. "'Cause what are they going to see?"  
"They're Sports Channel," Mika muttered. "It's all for drama."

The commentators were off again, narrating every move Mr. Red took, and I was making an effort not to listen. I just watched now with a tad more interest as the red biker, with obviously more confidence than Zelweinger, mounted his own bike. The crowd churned in excitement as he edged it closely to the end of the ramp. I could feel the tension even through the T.V. screen. This was it, I guess, though I was pretty ignorant. I just made sure not to talk, not to dampen it for anyone who wasn't.

Sheesh, it's just a motorcycle... And some crazy guy driving it...

"Now this punk'll show 'em how it's done," Seth muttered smugly.

"Is this the guy you've been fan-boying since we moved here?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. He countered it with his own smirk.

"Not me, _you_: I say you get the drool bucket ready, you might be needing it."  
I scowled.

Red revved his engine, more fierce than our first guy. The crowd went berserk, screaming and whistling. The commentators were freaking out too, tumbling over words... I rolled my eyes. Just drive your bike, kid.

And suddenly Red launched himself off the edge of the ramp, front wheel stuck up in the air like a snooty nose. The audience melted.

"He's a showoff," I murmured, frowning as he adjusted just in time to zip up the ramp with all the speed he could muster.

"He's got a warrant for it, too," Seth said back.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Holden mumbled.

And suddenly, Red was in the air; was he higher than Zelweinger? The cheers were definitely louder. This had to be it.

Red leapt from the bike, raising his body up like a platform as the seat slid out from under him, soaring past his nose, leaving him behind---

"What's he doing?!" I hissed in shock. He was going to fall and kill himself---!

In one fluid, smooth motion he caught the back of the seat and pulled it back under him, but he still had some air, and he didn't secure his seat just yet. As his gloved fingers closed around the handlebars, he did the same Zelweinger had: with a jerk, he bumped the body of the bike into a frenzied spin. The seat whizzed twice under his legs, like the chopping fingers of a helicopter.

Holden whistled low in his throat as Red gracefully brought the seat back between his thighs. Seth chuckled; Jeremiah was grinning and shaking his head.

"Do you know how many times he slaughtered that move before getting it to look all snotty like that?" Mika asked, chuckling as well.

The crowd's enthusiasm only intensified as he landed smoothly on the perch of the conjoined ramp, using the little boost to pull up into another wheelie. This time, miraculously, he actually went down the ramp on his back wheel _alone_, pulling up dust and skid marks and a scream of awe from the crowds.

"What a showoff!" I said, incredulous.

"He's pretty good," Simone cooed, smirking, and there was a nice dose of admiration in her voice.

As he met level ground, he set down his wheel and raced with a metallic snarl up the other end; his speed launched him high, maybe fifty feet or more, straight up into the black, starless sky. Screams caused static on the T.V.'s reception as he too pulled into a back flip, yet sliding farther off the bike that Zelweinger so that only his ankles clutched it in reaching distance.

"He's nuts!" Seth and the Chocolate Bros., including Mika, broke into awed laughter.

Red's arms hung wide over his head as he finished the flip...

On bringing it back down, he twirled the bike's body one more time, just for a crowd-pleaser, then settled back smoothly in his seat to glide down to the dirt.

The audience freaked, and the screen split in two: one camera showed us our hero riding circles as Zelweinger had around the ramps to pass time for the judges, while the other panned the front row of the audience. About six or seven teenage girls hung by their waists over the end, screaming hysterically right up in the lens, bawling the guy's name over and over again; they were being girls so well that I couldn't even make out the syllables.

The commentators were in a frenzy as finally the judges flashed their score---

A nine point nine.

The camera trembled, the reception fizzing madly, all the while the crowd flipping out over two simple black numbers; Seth and the Samoans were chortling and whooping... What was this, the World Cup?

"Calm down," I muttered, smiling in bafflement.

"Calm down?" Holden laughed. "He just got loaded, hon. He's the champ now!"

"Rookie to regal, babies!" Seth cheered, clapping over his head.

"Oh, please," I grumbled.  
I watched our winner now on the screen: he kept spinning circles, this time in celebration at his obvious victory. It wasn't too showy, but mostly because he was bringing up a lot of dust and I couldn't see him that well. I chuckled, still amazed at the fuss they were making, and watched him park his bike and slip off, walking a few paces to meet Zelweinger halfway in a hand shake.

They knocked helmets, thumping shoulders, the comrade stuff. That was good: at least he wasn't a snobby winner.

"It's him! He's got it!" The commentators were going a little overboard in my opinion. "Ashborne's got it, he's the champ, he's regal, Ashborne's regal!"

Wait a second.

Wait. A. Second.

"Hold on!"

I extended my arm, slamming Holden hard in the chest.

"Ow," he muttered, staring at me.

"Sorry, Hold--- _what's_ that kid's name?" I demanded.

He blinked, bewildered.

"Yeah, what _is_ his name?" Simone asked vaguely. "I caught a bit of it; It sounded kind of familiar."

"I..." Holden shook his head, massaging the center of his chest.

"Hold up..." Seth held up his hands, pointing to the screen.

I threw my attention at it. I wouldn't have been surprised if the screen had shattered under my gaze.

Had I heard that right? Was I going crazy?

The camera zoomed up on his helmeted face, as he made his way up the ramp to get his award. The commentators rambled on and on about his season, never once again mentioning his name AS IF THE WHOLE FRIGGIN' WORLD KNEW WHO HE WAS! Tell me his name, darnit! I'm not going insane for this!

(Too late.)

Shut up!

"...And here he is now, at perhaps the biggest moment of his life, one that could spark countless career opportunities..."  
Argh, the name! Give me the flippin' name!

(Calm down, will you? You probably misheard them.)

DON'T YOU TELL ME TO BE CALM, YOU OF ALL PEOPLE!

(Yes, _ma'am_...!)

A reporter's head sauntered into view as a portable camera was hurried quickly to Red's---Zane's?!--- side. The reporter shouted a question, something about the win...

The biker's gloved hands reached up to slowly remove his helmet.

And Zane's face slid into view, grinning and luminescent.

Every sense in my body shut down, all except hearing.

"Ooh, he's cute!" Simone observed from behind me.

"Wait..." Holden leaned forward, blinking.

"Hold up!" Seth shouted, leaping to his feet. He stabbed his finger at the T.V. screen.

"I know that punk!" His eyes were wide, his jaw slack, in shock.

"You know him?" Jeremiah hopped to his feet too, as if that would get them any better view.

It was Zane. It really was. I almost couldn't believe it.

He was the Zane I'd remembered from the ride home all those days ago, the Zane that had temporarily swept me off my feet, the Zane I'd seen on the curb, leaning against his bike like he knew what he was doing, the Zane I'd hung out with at the arts festival until Seth had to hunt me down and drag me away, the Zane I'd shared smiles with in the rearview mirror as I peered around the hard bulk of his shoulder...

His hair was more messy than I'd ever seen it, yet it seemed to suit him more perfectly than should be legal. Long, shaggy, perfectly black, way too long over his eyes and ears; It framed his grin, making his teeth glow whiter, his jubilance like some kind of child awoken inside him. His eyes were bright as stars: both of them, like hazel crystals reflecting sunlight. For a second, there was no pink burn scar on the left side of his face. There was only Zane, and this perfect grin that I'd never seen before, that I didn't think now I could ever forget.

Oh my gosh... it's really him, isn't it?

"That's Zane Ashborne!" Holden exclaimed finally, his jaw hanging open down to his knees.

"_Zane_ _Ashborne_?!" I heard Simone lurch forward in bed, probably clutching the sheets with white knuckles. "_No_ way!"

"You know that guy?" Mika spun around, grinning at us. "You guys knew him but you didn't even know _this_?"  
"No!" I snapped, and he burst into laughter. I couldn't help smiling, couldn't resist laughing; I probably should be pissed, steaming that he'd never told me---

Like I said, who was I to think I knew him?

Something hot and uncomfortable crawled at my cheeks as I watched him answer questions, watched him glow... What _was_ this? Who _was_ this guy? What in the world had he just done? How in the world could he get so good and... _And why the fudge are my cheeks burning up every time he speaks...!?_

Oh, hullis... I'm in love with Zane Ashborne.


	18. Chapter 18: Paparazzi

18: PAPARAZZI

_You're All I Have Snow Patrol_

_---_

The second night at the hospital was turning out to be my first night on the moon. The last ten minutes of television I'd watched had probably been the most intense of my whole life. After seeing Zane on T.V., the entire "party" had just dropped dead. Well, my end of it, anyway.

Simone, Holden, and A.J. had handled it pretty well, considering they knew Zane personally. Simone had entered some kind of demented happy place and kept mentioning over and over again "all the little clues" in our past we could now hook to this reality. Like the fact that he'd freakin' given me a ride home on his bike, and we'd never suspected a thing. Yeah, it was a sad truth, but still, she didn't have to grind it in!

Well, anyway, while she was going on and on about that, Holden was just in a state of shock I guess, trying to blink himself out of it and join the party again. He got Mika indulged with him in a chess match, and before long he seemed to have forgotten we'd ever watched the tournament. A.J. had been the quickest of us four to dispel it: he'd never really seen Zane in person, at least not enough for record, so he basically took it as a cool side fact to his bustling life and went to playing with Jeremiah and the others.

Seth and I, on the other hand... well, we can't really be compared, seeing as we're different genders, but our reactions were similar in ways. Seth was just dumbfounded, yelling and gaping at the screen long after the commercials had broken. How Sosaia had gotten him out of it, I'll never know, and it never really fully disappeared: the astonishment still burned behind Seth's eyes like he'd just been zapped with a taser gun.

Then there was me, sitting on Simone's bed practically in hyper sleep. It wasn't until Gran had shown up in a robe and curlers at a little after midnight and dragged Seth and I from the party by our elbows that I'd finally woke up from Zane's glowing face.

I'll spare you any more of the chaos that was going on inside my head and get to the action: Seth and Gran had insisted on sleeping over at the hospital. How they got their way, I'll never know, but it's not like the doctors hadn't seen a full range of their power the first night I'd been carted in here.

You'd think I wouldn't have gotten a wink of sleep, and I didn't; not at first, anyway. For about two hours I just laid there under the covers, silent as a grave, staring up at the dark ceiling and listening to the sounds of Seth's mounting snores in the armchair beside my bed. Unlike his case, I had to sit up every minute or so and check to make sure Gran was still there: she was a silent sleeper, and was cuddled up on a cushioned bench beneath a single wool blanket. Every once and a while I'd steel a glance at Seth, just for something to do: he slept in a slump in the armchair, his left ankle on his right knee and head leaning on his knuckles, mouth open and eyes so far shut I didn't think pliers could pry them open. It had been a little ridiculous how intense our argument had gotten when he and Gran had suggested staying. I'd told them I was fine and they shouldn't be stupid, and they said _they'll_ be fine and _I_ shouldn't be stupid. The sides were uneven, and so, as you can see, I'd lost that battle.

I didn't mind staying another night at the hospital, but Gran had. Seth had been pretty neutral: the look on his face had told me he'd be haunting me every minute of the day no matter _where_ we were...

Okay, now I'm just ranting. I admit it, I'm going a little crazy at the moment, so I tend to go on and on about details that aren't important...

(Finally. I was beginning to think you'd never shut up.)

Hey, join the club!

(Oh, come on, I'm not that bad. I was the one who finally convinced you that Zane---)  
Please don't talk about him, you might screw up his image.

(Wha?)  
His image. The way I saw him on T.V. It was perfect. I don't want anything else in my head for at least a week.

(Wow, now you're _officially_ a girl.)

I yawned hugely and glanced at the clock on my right night stand. One A.M. I guess my eyes were drooping a little... I would have loved to stay up longer and just think about Zane, but of course, that would take me all through the night and into the next day, and I have to sleep _some_time.

Another yawn... ugh... what a night...

(Go to sleep. Seriously. He's not gonna _poof_ away.)

You never know... with him...

(Sure. Sleep now.)

---------

It felt like I'd just barely shut my eyes before suddenly there was a _bang!_

I jumped under my covers, heart racing.

What the...?!

Light.

OW!

Scalding light, way too much to handle. I winced and groaned. Voices suddenly erupted, murmurs and whispers and chuckles all in one huddle of abstract sound.

Somewhere to my right, a bolder voice, devastatingly familiar, swore.

"What? Where is she?" a second voice asked, unfamiliar. In the background, the herd of noise hissed and whispers at once.

"Shhhh!" the familiar voice snarled huskily. "She's asleep, get out! Luther, tell them to shut up! Oh, sh..."

"Guys!" the second voice hissed, "shut up, she's asleep! Everybody out, move it!"

My eyes flew open.

I lurched upright in bed.

"Zane!"  
And he was there, eyes wide in surprise, mouth halfway open in a gasp. I was stunned: he didn't look very familiar at all, yet I knew it was him.

I didn't get a full view of the situation before a shrill scream, short and terrified, erupted from the back of the room.

I spun around and Gran had tumbled off her bench, a puddle of blanket and pink silk on the floor, eyes bulged and bloodshot, face twisted in fright.

"Gran!" I hurried off the bed, bouncing from the springy mattress and scrambling to her side.

"Smooth move, Zane," the second voice drawled. "You killed her grandma."  
The abstract voices erupted again, a clutter of whispers scrambling to be heard.

"Who's grandma?"  
"Is she in there?"  
"Who screamed?"  
"Did she wake up?"

Then there was a familiar groan from behind me.

"Whaggahappen?"

Over my shoulder I saw Seth stumble from the arm chair, rubbing his eyes, fighting to wake himself up.

"Kade, what'appened, whawas that---"  
"Gran got scared; it's okay Gran, it's just Zane."  
Gran whimpered and groaned, rubbing her bottom as I helped her to her feet. Seth tumbled towards us somewhere at my right, extending a shaky hand and giving blind assistance.

"Whagoingon?" he asked again, rubbing more fiercely at his eyes as we got Gran securely back onto the bench. She was gazing between our hips, agape, at Zane in the entryway.

"Who are they?" she asked, awed but still fearful. "Kade, who's there?"  
"They?" I turned around, ignoring Seth's mumbles. "I don't know, I just saw Z---"  
But it wasn't just Zane. Pouring from the doorway as if the walls were not able to contain them were about eleven or twelve teenage boys. Zane stood at the lead of them all, surrounded in their semi circle. His arms and legs were spread and tense, like he were ready to bolt at any second. It took my eyes a moment longer to get fully adjusted to the light, and when they did, I gasped.

All the boys were filthy with dirt from head to foot, including Zane, who maybe surpassed them. But it wasn't regular street clothing they had soiled: all of them were dressed in identical red body suits, each looking like a Power Ranger halfway out of the dressing room. Every arm and every chest was checkered and flagged with all kinds of insignias and logos. In all twenty-four or so hands was held a black helmet, visor splattered in dust and clod. It was no question as to who they were and where they had come from: from their sweaty bodies wafted in the smell of new rubber and gasoline. I may have panned their faces with more detail--- some tan, some pale, some blond, some brunette--- if my eyes weren't fastened completely on their obvious leader.

Zane's dark, shaggy hair I now adored so much was blown wildly in disarrayed points all along his ears and eyes. He looked more rugged than ever before, thus making my heart beat as fast as my ribs could handle. He was at his least presentable, a mess out of a playground, and suddenly he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Unlike his group of fellow bikers, he wore soil-stained black gloves that now wiggled unsure fingers, flexing them in and out. His breath came long and laborious: he stared at me almost in dread.

"Zane..." It was all I could say.

"What the fungus?" Seth suddenly blurted, stumbling into my back. "What's going on? Where did you guys come from?"  
"We're here to see Kade," a boy said smoothly, the closest to Zane's shoulder. It was the voice I'd previously labeled as 'second'. His thick, sharp facial structure made Zane look like a baby. A flicker of amusement sparked his dark eyes and he may have playfully punched Zane's back, it was hard to tell.

"How do you know my sister?" Seth demanded, glaring now. "Who are you, what the funk's going on here?"

"Seth, relax," I said, though I was just as bewildered, "it's Zane and his..."  
"Team," the second boy finished, smirking. "We're his bike brothers."

"What?" Seth leaned his head forward as if that would enhance his hearing. "Team? Zane? Kade, what's---"

"Zane Ashborne," I said firmly. "C'mon, Seth, you watched him on T.V. just a few hours ago!"

"But--- now that was--- he---" Seth looked from Zane to me, to Zane, to me, then back at Zane. His mouth hung open. "You're Zane Ashborne! The one I... you're..."

He ran a hand through his hair and looked at all the others.

"But what about _you_ guys, I didn't seen any of _you_ on T.V." He said it like he were accusing them of a crime.

"It came down to best of the best," Luther explained. "And Zane's our captain."

"How... why... What are you doing here?"

Before another word could be said, Zane broke from the circle of his team and marched up right to my face. He glowered down at me with narrow, furious eyes.

The shock of his arrival only reminded me of past shocks, and I glowered right back.

"You have some serious explaining to do!" we both snarled in unison.

I stopped dead, a tad surprised, and so did he. We sat there in silence for a brief second, and then---

"I can explain---" Again, simultaneous.

I groaned, and he did too. No matter how thrilled I was to see him, there was still buisness to take care of. Serious buisness.

I grabbed Zane by the crook of his elbow, turning to smile apologetically at Seth and Gran, and then at his team.

"Would you excuse us? For a moment."

And with that I stomped forward into the abyss of teenage boys, clutching Zane's wrist and dragging him close behind. The red sea parted as quickly as it could, every team member craning his neck to follow us out into the hall before I shoved Zane out ahead of me and closed to door swiftly with a click.

I closed my eyes to exhale, and then looked at him.

His face, which had previously been wide in surprise, molded instantly into a scowl. He placed gloved hands on his hips and flipped dusty bangs from his eyes. My stomach squirmed. What a dream boat...

"All right," I said coolly. Darn it, don't smile! You're supposed to be irritable! "You first."

"Okay," he growled, and he took a deep breath before plunging ahead.

"What in the world are you talking about, '_the crash_'? Is this some kind of _joke_? And what on earth does Jace have to do with it? Are you _insane_ or something, leaving me hanging like that?"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry---" I stumbled quickly over the words so they weren't as sincere as I really meant. "Really, I should have explained it to you..."  
"Uh, _yeah_!" He sighed heavily. "You pretty much dragged me from L.A., Kade. Sometimes I really don't think I know you."  
"You could have called," I said. "I would have been more than happy to clear things up."  
"_Called_?" he snorted. "I'd _already_ called you; and your message wasn't exactly the definition of elaborate."  
"Well, you didn't pick up! I didn't want to leave a thirty-minute message."

He sighed, folding his arms. "Okay, but still. What the heck."  
"Here it is," I said, slowly and clearly. "I was in the car with my friend Simone and her little brother. A semi was going to level us from the side; it was his fault, he was coming the wrong way. But out of the blue comes Jace: he hit us deliberately, knocking us out of the way, while his car took the blow instead. He's in intensive care now; I went up to see him, it's a freaky place."  
He just stared at me, clearly unsatisfied, brow knitted tightly in a frown.

"I don't really care about Jace, believe it or not," he mumbled through his teeth, then unfolded his arms and moved forward slightly. "I came to check on you. Are _you_ okay?"  
"I think you've seen that by now. And I told you already."  
"You knew I wouldn't believe you."  
"Maybe not. Do you believe me now?"

"No. I'll have to talk to your brother."  
"He'll love that," I said dryly. "Nothing makes Seth happier than a teenage boy asking how I'm doing."

Disapproval flooded his wonderful eyes.

"Whatever, Kade. You're acting pretty bratty, so I guess that means you're relatively okay."

"Yeah," I grumbled. "So are you."

"So what would _my_ fowl mood imply?" he asked.

"You're not indulging in anything reckless," I said, shrugging. "Lying around the house. Doing nothing. _Watching T.V._"

But he knew exactly where I was going. He turned his head away, closing his eyes and running his hands through his hair. I surged ahead, my tone growing more and more dangerous.

"Seth might not strike you to cinders now, you know. He actually thinks you're pretty cool. At least, he won't shut up about how he knows a _national champion motorcycler_, you lying retard!"  
His hand flew up. "Kay, first of all, I did _not_ lie. Not ever."  
"You kept it a secret. That's call deceiving, which is lying, ZaZa."  
"There wasn't a reason for you to know," he pressed. "There wasn't a reason for anyone to know. Who cares?"  
"Who _cares_?" I laughed incredulously. "Are you _serious_?"  
"What's the big deal?" He looked genuinely bewildered, so if he was acting, he was doing a good job of it.

"We're buddies, aren't we?" My face heated somewhat. "I think it's only natural that I know what you love to do. And don't say you don't love it, because if you didn't, you wouldn't be half as good at it as you are now."  
"I won't say I don't love it," he mumbled. "It's basically what I live for."  
"Exactly! So why don't you tell people?"  
"Maybe because what they think of me has never really mattered!" He scowled now. "Incase you haven't noticed, I'm not the most popular kid in the school, okay?"  
"This could have made you more popular!"  
"Well, great, it's nice to know people will respect me now because I have some sweet moves on a bike."

"What about me?" I demanded, blushing slightly again. "I wasn't like that. We were friends before I knew anything about this, weren't we?"  
"You could mean 'this' as the bike itself or the whole tournament. I think our relationship boosted some points when I gave you that ride home."  
"Because you were being honest with me. You were being your true self, that's why it boosted, not because I thought you looked hot on a motorcycle!"  
I snapped my mouth shut, stomach boiling in horror. I could only guess what color my face was. Zane just stared for a moment, and then the tiniest hint of a smirk twitched his lips.

"What?"  
"Nothing," I muttered, taking a deep breath. If only there was a drain plug on my cheeks. "What I'm trying to say is: if we were ever friends, you'd think I'd have a right to know why you're missing days of school, and why you come back sometimes looking like you've transformed from a werewolf..."  
"I never look that bad," he said, grimacing. "But thanks."  
"I'm not saying you suck, I'm just---"  
"I know what you're saying and I just disagree with it. Friends don't have to know _everything_ about eachother."

"Maybe it was a little early," I compromised, "but I'm still upset about it."  
"Well, I'm sorry I never told you." And despite his frown, he sounded half-genuine. Hey, it was a start.

"I just don't see what was so terrible about me knowing," I continued. "Seriously, I mean, you're amazing! I watched you on T.V., Zane, I know."  
"I know you watched it on T.V.," he grumbled, glaring down the hall.

"Are you embarrassed?" I asked, dumfounded. "What's so wrong?"  
"No," he snapped suddenly, but I saw him go a little red too.

I stared at him in realization. "That's it, you're embarrassed."  
"I'm not embarrassed," he snarled, "I'm just modest. I hate the spotlight."  
"You didn't look like that last night," I said, and frowned.

"I'd just won nationals, Kade." He rolled his eyes. "You'd think I'd be a little satisfied."

"That's not what I meant," I growled. "You're a dirty rotten show off, you know that?"  
I was expecting him to be offensive but, surprisingly, he chuckled.

"Thanks," he said smugly. "I try."  
"You succeed. Congrats."

"Well, imagine what kind of a snob I could have been if I'd known you were watching." The mischief in his voice and eyes made my stomach flutter.

Oh, not the earwigs again...

(I recall they'd transformed into butterflies.)  
Whatever. Bugs: out.

"You see?" I said, my smirk returning. "It wouldn't have been so terrible if I'd known."  
He sighed, _his_ smirk fading. "No, it would have."

"Whatever. You're weird."  
"You're weirder."  
"You know, I bet the whole school saw that win," I said aggressively, egging him on.

"Good think I'm not coming back, then, huh?" His tone was just as fierce.

And my stomach sank: I could just feel my face crumbling. Oh, great, I hate it when I get dramatic...

Argh! Darn you, Zane, why do you have to be so wonderful _now_?  
"You're..." I blinked, fighting the burning disappointment.

His face had fallen too, in shame and regret. "Yeah. Sorry... I meant to tell you in my message, but... Well, my Uncle decided it was healthier permanent."  
There was only one reason why his uncle would worry about it being healthy.

"Weren't you happy here?" It was the stupidest thing I'd said that night, but I couldn't help it. It was just the first thing out of my mouth, my new top priority.

He hesitated, eyeing my carefully.

"You weren't," I mumbled, looking at my feet.

"Not all the time," he amended. "I... okay, so I thought the place was trash, but that was mainly because Aeva was there. And Jace, and other idiots of their species. And I'd have to lug my dad's..." here, his voice strained a bit, "... reputation around on my shoulders like it was something I wanted."  
He sighed, and I was silent. I really didn't know how to respond.

"I guess I didn't help much," I said hopelessly. "I seriously think sometimes I was giving you a crappy time just because I could."  
"That was true for a few days," he admitted, and my heart sank. But then he smirked. "But then... I don't know, stuff changes, you know?"

I looked up, hopeful. "Like what?"  
He suddenly hesitated again.

"Uh... well... I don't know, just... like, you apologized and everything, didn't you?"  
"Yeah..." I shook my head. "But you'd been a jerk, too."  
"Yeah, and I apologized," he defended. "So... it all faded out."  
"But then after that," I pressed.

"What do you mean?"  
I was growing desperate. "Did I help at all? Making things less miserable for you? When we became friends?"  
He chuckled darkly. "Most of the time you were just driving me crazy, to be honest."  
"How?" His tone was playful, so I guess I didn't have the need to feel guilty.

He sighed deeply, and my stomach jumped again. "You have your ways."  
"I do?" I was smug, of course.

"Don't get too cozy."  
"Oh, come on." I chuckled and suddenly felt the hole of an unanswered question. "So... did you ever feel like you wanted to tell me?"  
He blinked. "About what?"  
"The tournament."  
His eyes darkened. "Not really," he said slowly. "I thought giving you a ride home on my bike was a little risky, though. I'd seen you looking at that stupid magazine with your brother."  
I laughed. "You were worried I'd figure it out on my own? Man, you really don't know me."  
"You weren't suspicious at all?" He sounded truly confused, and surprised.

"Are you kidding?" I laughed again. "I thought the magazine was the dumbest thing I'd ever seen, I wasn't going to take the time to read it. And my mental awareness is athletically challenged."  
"It is," he grumbled.

"What?"

"The magazine. It's stupid."  
"Oh. Okay." I chuckled to myself. This was so bizarre.

"And..." I was playing it close here, but I guess I'd already slipped, so what was the point in hiding anymore? "I was a little distracted that day."  
(His midnight hair tousled in the wind, the seventeen years of his crafted chest...)

WILL YOU FREAKIN' GIVE IT A REST?!

(What? He's not going to read your mind.)

I thought he was a normal kid and he turned out to be a motorcycle super star! There will _never_ be an end to the things I _don't_ _know_ about this guy.

"Distracted?" He snorted. "I'll say. I pretty much left you traumatized."  
"That's not it," I mumbled, barely moving my lips. My face was lava.

"What is it, then?"  
"Do you have short-term memory loss?" I demanded. He just stared at me.

"Forget it." I sighed. He was so difficult. "So... did you not trust me?" Another spur-of-the-moment question.  
"Huh?"

"Is that why you never told me about the tournament? You thought I was going to feed every gossip-starved ding bat in the whole school with it?"  
He scowled. "No, though I would've killed you if you had."  
"I wouldn't've," I assured him. "Trust me. That place is a nightmare." I thought about the day back from the fight, the celebrations of Zane's absence, and felt temporarily sick.

But I forced myself out of it, focusing on his face. "So, that's not the reason?"  
"No." He glanced down at the floor. "I trusted you, I was just... a little distracted that day, all right?"  
I smirked. "You too, huh? By what?"  
"I don't have to tell you everything," he mumbled. "You should be used to that by now."  
"No one said I'm going to accept it."  
"Good point..." He looked down the hall again, clearly avoiding my eyes.

"Come on," I urged with a smile, moving forward. "Why were you distracted?"

"I---" but he snapped his mouth shut, finally meeting my eyes with a scowl. "Just forget it."  
"I'll tell you why I was if you tell me why you were," I offered, inching closer.

He seemed to consider it, then shook his head.

"Forget it."  
I frowned, and stepped back. "Fine."

There was a brief second of silence, and then he shifted uncomfortably.

"I meant to ask you... Was Jace stoned?"  
I frowned deeper. "What?"  
"When he drove into your car," he said, failing to keep the dislike from his voice. "Was he stoned?"

I glared, suddenly angry. "How could you assume that? Of course he wasn't; he basically gave his life for us, Zane! He might be paralyzed!"  
"Sorry, I'm sorry!" He held up his hands, and despite my irritation, I noticed he sounded genuine. "Okay. I'm just curious. And I'm in the mood to be a punk."  
"Peh." I snorted in agreement. "Did you know that's how Seth reacted? Are boys just here to assume people are high when they do heroic things?"  
"I was just wondering!" he pressed, offensive now. "Relax. What if he was? I would've liked to know, that's all."  
"You probably expected as much," I growled, unable to stop myself. I was still feeling on the defense.

There was a pause as he glared.

"Maybe I have some good reasons," he said back. "I thought you would too."  
Of course. Smooth, Kade.

I pressed my eyes shut with my fingertips.

"You're right, Zane, I'm sorry... I just... I've talked to him, and he really feels bad. He's trying to change things. So I'm assuming everyone looks at it that way."

"I could have been a little more generous," he admitted gruffly, "but yes, I think I'm a little justified to be mean about it."  
I nodded, sighing, and it transformed into a yawn.

Zane chuckled. "And sorry about my crappy timing."  
"No, no..." I finished my yawn behind my arms and stared up at him dreamily. "How did you get here so fast? I've been meaning to ask you that."  
"I listened to my voice mail right after the awards ceremony," he said. "Your message made me flip."  
"Sorry..." But I couldn't help smiling.

"You should be." He sighed, and then smirked. "I was in a van with my team and my coach. I said if we didn't turn around right that second and head for San Diego, I'd go hand the trophy to Adam Zelweinger. He was the guy I faced off..."  
"I know," I said, and then blushed. "Did you mean that?"

"No." He chuckled apologetically when I frowned.

"But I was serious about coming here," he assured me, and I couldn't help smiling.

"So they actually did it?" I asked, stunned. "I thought they'd be exhausted, and you're way outnumbered."  
"Actually, they were psyched out of their minds," he said. "They really didn't mind; they actually liked the idea of scrambling to San Diego at the last minute."

"That's crazy," I said, chuckling. "What did your coach say?"

"Well, my coach happens to be my uncle," he said, grinning. "And, well... he was kinda turning the van around before I'd snapped my phone shut."  
I laughed. "Really? What about the teams' parents?"  
Zane shrugged. "Uncle called them..."  
We laughed together.

"Wow," I said. "So you drove all the way here from L.A. in the dead of night just to see me."

"Yeah..." His smile was so soft, and I almost sang. I wanted to pause time and see him smile like that forever. "We stopped at Wendy's and got ice cream, just to keep the team alive. I didn't need one."  
"You were that worried?" I bit my lip. "You really didn't need to be."  
"Like I said: I didn't believe a word of your message. For all I knew, you were in a freakin' body cast just playing it brave."  
"Definitely not a body cast," I said. "I'm the last person in this wreck you need to be worrying about. Really. I'm totally fine."  
He just shrugged. "Not a word."  
I smiled and inevitably blushed. "Well... thanks. That's... that's really sweet of you."  
"You're flattered?" He smirked, folding his arms.

You have no idea.

I glanced up warily. "Well, what, am I supposed to get mad and tell you to go away?"  
He laughed. "No. I'm glad you are." Then he smirked darkly. "You should be."  
"Hey..." I laughed too.

"No, listen," he said. "Try riding all through the night in a van full of teenage boys high on sugar who've just won a national competition. Beyond crazy. Ridiculously crazy."  
"I think you handled it pretty well," I said. "You've never looked better."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Really."

I blushed furiously. "Shut up."  
We just laughed more. I felt myself moving closer to him. Hey, what was I supposed to do about it?

"So... will you be going back tonight?"

"Tomorrow," he said hastily, eyes wide in dread, and I laughed again. "_Tomorrow_. We'll get a hotel."  
"You can sleep over at my place," I suggested. "Gran'll be more than happy to have you."  
"Yeah. After the warm welcome we gave her tonight, I'm sure she'd love to have us in her house."  
"I'm serious, Zane, she wouldn't mind one bit."  
"Look at us," he said, holding out his dirt-clogged arm. I shrugged.

"She won't care."

"And this is the part where she fires you from being her representative."  
I slapped his chest. "Okay, fine, go crawling to a hotel."

"Or we might just sleep in the van," he said, considering.

"Oh my gosh, get a hotel or I'll drag you down town and lock you in my house!"  
"Relax, relax." He took my wrist as I attempted to hit him again. "We're boys. We couldn't care less."

"Whatever. Boys want somewhere comfortable to sleep as much as girls do."  
"Yeah. It's just that our definition of comfortable is a lot more lax."  
"Whatever, Zane."  
I sighed, and we just stood there looking at eachother for what felt like an eternity. He was still holding my wrist. Slowing my fingers inched down to his, intertwining them. His glove was cool and sleek, like the seat of his bike. He didn't say anything. I was thrilled.

"So... are we going to set a date?" I asked.

He blinked, suddenly nervous. "What?"  
"When are you going to come visit again?" I clarified, trying to beat down the warmth that pulsed from our joined hands.

"Oh..." He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "I don't know, Kade... I'm kinda busy..."  
"What?" I smirked. "Signing autographs?"

"No," he said quickly, frowning. "Thanks for the goose bumps, though."  
"Hey, I owe you them."  
"What?"

"Remember the beach? When I _supposedly_ got goose bumps because of the _breeze_?"  
I wanted to laugh; he just stared at me.

"What does that matter?"  
"Lots," I chuckled. "So, um... you got time to kill this weekend?"  
He bit his lip. "No, Kade, I'm busy. We're moving all our stuff in."  
"Could I come help?"  
"Please, Kade," he sighed, running his free hand through his hair, "don't make this harder than it already is."

"Fine." I pouted, but in a dignified way. "I guess you'll be a ghost from now on."  
"C'mon," he moaned, "I live in L.A.!"  
"That didn't stop you from coming here tonight!" I pressed. "Please, Zane?"

"I don't know when we'll have time," he said. "It takes hours to drive down here."  
"Only two or three."

"Okay, so why don't _you_ make the drive?"  
"I could. Sure. When do you want me to come up?"  
He ran a hand over his tired eyes.

"I don't get it, Zane, do you never want to see me again? What's wrong?"

"No," he said, his voice suddenly barely a whisper. "Don't be stupid, of course I want to see you again. It's just..."  
"Just _what_?"

Our eyes fastened, and his were tighter than mine.

"We'll work something out. Promise. Just not now, I'm a little too spun out to think."  
I sighed. "Oh, fine..."  
"Hey, why don't _you_ try pulling off some life-threatening stunt with a bajillion people screaming at you in the dead of night---"  
"Zane." I laughed. "Chill, okay? It's cool. As long as you promise to try and set something up."  
"Yeah, sure." He sounded relieved. "Promise."

I smiled and just couldn't hold back a moment longer: I threw my arms around his neck, causing him to grunt and fumble his footing somewhat.

"I'm glad you came," I whispered. "I really missed you."  
His chest lifted in a sigh and his arms again moved to encircle my waist.  
"Wow," he said back, "you must really be bored."  
I kicked him tenderly in the shin, biting back laughter.

(Kicking him tenderly, hm, weird...)

"Ow..." he murmured, and we chuckled as his shoulder fell back against the wall...

Suddenly, noise that had been muffled before now grew considerably louder as the door to my hospital room opened.

"Kade?"

Zane and I ripped apart, but Seth had already seen. I was ready to whip out a can of kick-butt-little-sister and defend Zane at all costs, but... Seth looked at me for a long time with sour, unsure eyes, and then he sighed... and smiled gently.

"You feeling okay?"

I blinked, and a cool wave of reassurance came over me. "I feel fine."  
"Come back inside," he said. "You need to go to bed."  
I opened my mouth to object but Zane's hand slipped into mine and I suddenly didn't have a voice.

"Yeah," he said. "We should go, too."

I might have felt torn; I might have protested for more time with Zane, felt angry that Seth was trying to pull me away from him and tuck me into bed like a baby...

But he wasn't, and that made all the difference.  
"You're right," I said, and smiled at my brother. "I'll be right in."  
Seth nodded, content, and disappeared back inside the room where I could hear Zane's team talking and chortling together. They still had energy, and it gave me energy.

I turned to my knight, who smiled.

"I'll see you Friday," I said. "Thanks again for coming. Really, you didn't need to, but I'm glad you did."  
"Don't leave me such screwy messages next time," he said, shrugging. "I'll call you with that address."  
"Don't forget." I moved towards the door, feeling better every second. "I'll... Well, bye, Zane."  
"See you, Kade."

I rounded the corner slowly with a smile, coming into the doorway, but then stopped myself. A few of his team members noticed me there and moved out of the way, but I wasn't going in.

Turning around, I rushed back out to where Zane stood and shoved a kiss into his dirty cheek.

Sorry. 'Couldn't help myself.

(No complaints here. About time you did it, too.)

I didn't stop to further examine his stunned face as I ran back into the hospital room, slipping through the red team until I was clipped by one of the boys.

I looked up cheerfully and the boy with the built face and dark eyes, Zane's Second Man, smiled down on me.

"Um, hey, are you Kade Waters?"  
"Yep."

"I was wondering if you knew Simone Kyler?"  
"Simone? She's one of my best friends."  
He grinned. "Great. Would you do me a favor?"

I was in an ecstatic mood, so I nodded.

"The next time you see her," he said, and his smile turned apologetic, "tell her Luther Tennison is freakin' sorry he couldn't come see her. I'd go see her now but... I don't think it's gonna happen, and I live all the way up in Santa Anna..."  
"Sure thing," I said, waving him off with a smile. "I'll tell her. She mentioned you, actually, she said something about a varsity league."  
He grinned. "Yeah, we played soccer together for a few years. She can kick my butt any day. Anyway, thanks. Thanks a lot."

"No problem."

And I made my way quickly towards the back of the room where Seth met me by the bed.

"What?" he asked, seeing my titanic smile.

"Nothing." I shrugged and jumped into the bed. "Good night, Seth. You're the best brother in the world."

He just stared at me until I laughed.


	19. Chapter 19: Home Bound

19: HOMEBOUND

**---**

_Fall To Pieces Avril Lavigne_

And then, I was home.

Leaving the hospital hadn't been a breeze, though. I promised Simone I'd visit every day as long as she was in there, and she made me swear I'd pry Holden from the basketball courts and drag him along sometimes too.

I wasn't going to go back to school for at least two weeks, not until my head healed, and I'd be wearing the ugly bandage for about half that time. Seth said if I ever took it off before the doctors had said it was okay, he'd staple it to my head. Comforting Seth.

Zane had called five minutes after Seth, Gran, and I had walked in the door at eight-thirty. While Seth was busy remembering he'd been okay with Zane and I hugging, Gran had taken one look at the caller I.D. and shooed me into my room with the phone, locking the door and vowing to keep disturbances at bay.

We didn't talk about anything. I tried to get a date set to meet, but... knowing his stubbornness, it didn't happen. But I was grateful Zane and I weren't talking in person. The fact that I'd kissed him on our last encounter showed enough in my _voice_: I didn't even want to _know_ what kind of humiliation my face would put me through.

He sounded natural enough, though I could hear smiles occurring more regularly in his voice as we talked.

It wasn't until the next day, Friday, (we'd gotten home Thursday night) that I suddenly realized...

The truth.

My epiphany on the beach and Simone's epiphany at the mall tied together with my lovely chat with Zane in the hospital hallway and the whole, sticky mess with the _Unknownawear_. I hadn't stopped to think about the mystery jeans ever since the crash, and now as I saw the original pair, the starters of it all, secure in their plastic bag under my bed, I knew.

And for some reason, the truth was funny. It was hysterical; I laughed myself silly on my bed for like, two hours! I don't know why it was so funny, it just was, just to me. It wouldn't be funny to anyone else but me.

It was funny because it was so obvious. So obvious now that I'd seen the bigger picture.  
Why didn't I see it before?  
I'm _so_ bad at figuring things out; I need to see someone.

---------

It hadn't been hard to fish out Zane's address from the internet: Google was raving about his championship win. I couldn't help clicking onto a fan girl site just to see what stupid things they were saying about him.

In the end, it had been an official fan site to give me what I needed; I'd spent some time in the photo gallery and had caught myself saving certain pictures into the desktop...

I deleted them like the wind. Seth may be on his road to relaxation, but I wasn't about to push him so far as to send him to Overprotectiveness rehab.

I rifled around in our kitchen for some kind of cardboard box we weren't using; I had to make a few trips out to the recycling, the garbage... Finally I found something that passed. After shutting the computer down, I made a quick trip up to my room.

When in my room, I went straight for my bed. Ducking underneath, I felt frantically for any plastic...

Aha...

It was funny, looking now into the bag at those jeans.

At Zane's jeans.

Well, it was about time I caught on.

I pretty much danced to the other end of the room, feeling a little lighter every second. I opened my drawers and dug around...

With my jeans over my shoulder and his under my arm, I made my way back downstairs.

--------

I grunted awake to the sound of Seth's stereo. It was his version of an alarm clock: nothing like screamer to get you reverberated and ready for school. Of course, I wouldn't be going, but that didn't do much for my head. Seth must have forgotten to turn the music down last night: usually he's considerate enough to do so so it would only give _him_ the scare of his life in the morning, and not Gran and I _too_.

But, apparently, he'd spaced, and so the sound waves ripped through the walls like an echo of razor blades. It was pretty traumatizing.

I gasped in shock and ducked under my pillow, pressing it harder and harder against my ears.

"SETH HADLEY WATERS!" Gran screeched from her bed over the original screeching of the music. I jammed my fingers in my ears, trying to block out both.

"DO YOU WANT TO GIVE THIS OLD WOMAN A HEART ATTACK?!"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm working on it!"  
The music was zapped in the next second, no doubt just turned way down instead of off.

There was a thud from down the hall, and for one horrific moment I thought Gran had finally snapped.

Instead, the groan I heard was Seth's. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep, groaning myself.

Suddenly my door was thrown open and Gran stood there looking like she'd just pinned an elephant: I peeked under the pillow and her stubby legs spread, her peach night gown, the way her hair was more of a cumulonimbus cloud with pink porhanas clinging to it's clumps instead of curlers.

She adjusted a certain curler that had fallen into her face, stuffing it back into her gray-white fro and then turning her attention back to me.

"Are you okay, pumpkin?" she demanded. "Did that hostile music split your scalp open?"

"I'm fine, Gran," I managed, resisting the need to massage the wound as it suddenly stung.

She didn't buy it; the look in her eyes was enough to intimidate me into telling the truth.

"It's... stinging a little. Just a little!"

"A little!" Gran hollered, terrorized. "You poor little hurt creature! SETH!"  
He'd turned his music up a few notches.

"What?" he called back defensively.

"Do you have a black heart?" Gran snarled. "Judas Priest, you've inflicted enough fatal pain on this valiant little soul!"

"Gran, please," I groaned, "I'm all right, honestly. I'm just gonna get some more sleep."  
"I'll say you are!" Gran whirled on me now, yet the gleam in her eyes was concern now, not anger. "You'll be sleeping like the _dead_ if I have anything to say about it."  
"Okay, okay..." I sighed, slipping back down onto my pillows and yawning, letting my eyes droop.

Gran sighed too, half exasperation, half relief, half satisfaction.

(There aren't three halves in a whole, Sleeping Beauty.)

I'm tired. Give me a break.

Turning from my room, she slouched off in Seth's direction, muttering audibly even over the partial-loud music.

"Make yourself useful and go get the mail, will you?" she snarled in his direction.

My stomach clenched in sudden dread.

"Fine..." There was a pause as he turned off the music. "Will you watch my hair gel while I'm gone?"  
"Oh, for heaven's sake..."  
I heard his thunderous steps as he bounded down the stairs. In horror, I threw the quilt aside and scrambled dizzily to the door. My head pounded; I muttered something about stupid semi drivers while wrenching the door open and racing down the hall after him.

"Seth! Seth, hold it!"  
"Katydid!" Gran shrieked. "Get back in bed, sweets, are you nuts?"

I stumbled to the bottom steps and caught Seth frozen in shock just at the front door, his hand on the brass knob.

"What's up?" He looked dumbfounded.

"I---"

MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL AND HELP ME THINK OF A GOOD LIE!

(Why are you suddenly bringing _me_ into this?!)

Don't ask questions, pixie!

"I--- um--- you---" I growled, frustrated, under my breath. "I wanted to get the mail today!"

His eyebrow shot up into his hairline.

"Meh?"

I leapt down onto the carpet and began hurrying to his side.

"I just... would like to get the mail today," I repeated, working to calm my voice and straighten my expression. "Just would like some fresh air, you know?"  
He just kept staring at me, bewildered, as if I'd expressed interest in the Super Bowl.

"Okay..." And he shook his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets and moving away.

I tried to control the turbo hammer of relief that was my heart as I opened the door and slipped out onto the porch. The cement was like a burst of adrenaline, an unneeded ice pack on the soles of my feet. Like every morning, the salty air also made it's entrance, a poisonous gas leak, and after avoiding intoxication I bent down to the pavement.

Our mailbox was a black box hung on the right side of the doorway. Beneath it, snuggled half-hidden behind a plant-and-pot, was the cardboard box I'd dug up from the garage. My stomach clenched at the possibility of Seth having spotted the address written in clear sharpie across the top: we've had enough drama around here, folks, especially concerning the name 'Ashborne'.

With my toe, I nudged the box a little deeper behind the plant--- hoping the mail lady would be attentive enough to catch it and Seth wouldn't--- and then snatched the newly delivered envelopes from the day before.

When I shut the door behind me, dizzied a little by the contrast of sea scent to Gran's exaggerated pineapple air freshener, Seth was leaning against the kitchen bar, flipping through a magazine with a mellow expression. He lifted his pierced eyebrow at me as I came by and I almost bowed to His Majesty Suspicious.

"Here," I said briskly, chucking the envelopes in his direction: they slid across the counter and bumped to a stop at his knuckles.

"Did you have an enlightening experience?" he asked solemnly, his fingers already working at tearing white construction paper.

"Very," I said, and walked forward to snatch the magazine from under him. I already knew what I'd find, but my heart still kind of miscounted when I saw Zane's black-and-white head shot beside the big golden words: Royalty.

Pff. Boys and their sports... You'd think football was enough with this whole momentous, soul-changing media all the time. Now motorcycling... sheesh.

"So..." I had to turn away then: that stupid pink color has really been hitting on my cheeks a lot lately. I might have to set up a curfew.

"Are you going to paste his pictures all over your walls now?" I asked, trying and probably failing to stick an ice in my voice. I didn't know exactly what I was shooting for... Disdain? Indifference? Amusement? Who knows? I was looking at a picture of my new favorite boy, it was kind of a lot to ask to be coherent.

I heard Seth snort. "You gonna fight me to the death for them or something?"  
"No," I snapped instantly, yet my heart sizzled with inspiration at the thought. "I'm not some crazy sports fan girl, Bright One."  
"He had his moments," Seth said seriously, "but he's still flattened for getting you to ride his bike."  
"What?" I glared over my shoulder. "We hugged and you were okay with it and now you bring up the ride home?"

"With the hug, I arrived in time: everything was under control. With the bike ride... you guys were out there for at least an hour."

"So?"

Seth rolled his eyes at me.

"Do you think he makes sharp turns and accelerates at random moments _just_ because he finds it fun? You sit behind him for a reason, Katydid."

"How do you know about that?" I demanded.

Seth sighed dramatically. "Will you ever realize the fleeting tactics of flirting..."  
It was my turn to snort. "Whatever, Seth. Zane isn't some stupid player. Now, with that coming from _you_, well, sure, I understand: that's exactly the kind of thing _you'd_ do."

He held up his hand in appreciation. "A mere living, my friend. And come on, let's be honest, I really, _really_ wouldn't assume Ashborne doesn't appreciate a girl's arms around his waist..."  
"Sometimes I think you feel obliged to be a pervert."  
He shrugged. "It has it's ups and downs..."  
"Ugh." I crumpled the magazine under my arm and marched for the stairs.

"And you can keep all those pictures, by the way," he called after my back, "I'm not _that_ low in morals."  
"Thank heaven," I grumbled, halfway up the stairs before Gran appeared, looking past my shoulder down at Seth.

"Seth!" she called. "Why aren't you showering? You're going to be late for school."  
"I'm not going." He said it as if it were obvious.

"Oh, yes you are." Gran made her way down, patting my head as she passed by.

"I'm staying and watching after Kade," Seth said, frowning now.

"You're going to school, and _I'll_ stay home and watch after Kade."  
I heard him huff indignantly.

"You'll check on her every second?" he demanded. "Make sure she always has that bandage on?"  
"Oh, for pete's sake, Seth, it'll take her an hour just to peel a single corner off her forehead! They've literally drilled it on."  
"Just watch her, okay? I might come home at lunch---"  
"And about all those truancy reports that have been coming home, young man; you and I are about to have a serious talk. Why, if your father were here right now, he'd beat every sorry particle of rebellion from your knobby little head and..."  
I made sure to lock my door behind me. This was turning into another storm.

Once in my room, I felt my irritation evaporate. I'd gotten the magazine with my own little brilliant schemes, and Seth was busy with Gran, so he couldn't suspect any fangirling! How convenient.

(Did you just call yourself a fangirl?)

No, that's just the context Seth would put it in. He wouldn't understand love like this...  
(Woah, there, missy... 'Love' is a powerful word. Don't you mean 'crush'?)

'Mean', probably not. 'Prefer'... yeah, I guess you're right.

(I mean, you know what they say about teen love, and I'm just... you know... looking out for disappointment, is all.)

The definition of teen love is: a boy and a girl with not much more sense beyond music brands meeting, being sexually attracted to eachother, and laughing their abs to pieces every time the other so much as blinks. I think Zane and I are a little more mature than that, honestly. I mean, we started out as arch enemies.

(And those are the relationships that always last?)

Now you're getting it.

Augh... Well, there a times when my mind can wander, I'll admit, but luckily, now I had a new antidote.

Watch me heal, pixie.

(Mm?)

I flipped the magazine open to the sports pages--- watch carefully, this is a momentous moment: the one time in eternity I, Kade Waters, will be going to the sports section--- and felt... well... slightly naughty, I guess I could say, as I dug up a pair of scissors and took to the bed, my studio of lovesick production.

In five minutes, I had his face taped all throughout the inside cover of my journal.

Ah, medicine has never tasted so good...

-------

My name is Simone.

Lately... well, my life has taken a little turn. I'll live, I'll move on, it's just...

Sometimes what seems like an incident physically can really be so much more. A mental incident, emotional... those things don't fade. They're the ones that stick. And... despite how much I'd love to forget all this, I don't think I'm going to be able to.

First... before any not-forgetting was going to happen, I needed to see him.

You know who 'him' is, I'm sure. It was so strange... Kade's brother Seth had talked to me a little bit before they'd left the hospital: he'd admitted holding me responsible for hurting his sister and was offering a sincere apology. He'd been in the wrong, I'd been in the right, but I hadn't been offended at all. I told him he had every right to feel how he did and made my own glamorous display of apologies, and we'd walked away from it good as new, like the crash had never happened.

We'd also confirmed that nothing... romantic would be going on between us anytime soon.

And here's what's strange: all that was easy. As hard and awkward as it sounds, it wasn't that at all.

So now, I was basically doing the same thing, just with another person.

And it was going to be _so_ hard.

It's not fair.

I'd finally convinced Dr Rocum that my condition would allow it. My mom and dad too had overdone the word 'concern' just a little bit. Luckily, Holden and A.J. were there to bail me out, and with my own little negotiating, I finally convinced the bosses.

Now, all I have to hope for is that it'll be convenient for _him_... I tried not to bite my nails _too_ hard, not to twist my shirt into _too_ tight a knot. It was hard enough having a history behind the two of us: Dr. Rocum's occasional mystified glances at my nervousness didn't help that much either. My mom walked close beside the wheel chair, which I sat in even though I really didn't think I needed too, gripping herself nervously. I tried to exchange a glance with my dad, telling him to calm her down, but I can't count on him much: his look of obliviousness was all too typical.

Holden volunteered to wheel me the rest of the way once we reached the elevator: Rocum's walkie-talkie had just zapped with news about someone on the seventh floor. I relaxed a little bit when I watched Holden's fingers take the handles, when I watched his gaze descend down on me. His wasn't concern or confusion, just reassurance.

Heaven knows it was what I needed.

As the elevator lifted, lots of things rolled through my head, thoughts, feelings, conjectures, all floating past the back of my eyeballs like they could, like they were justified. I honestly thought it sick and cruel that one person could be bombarded with so many emotions. I tried taking a long, deep breath, but that only bumped my bad arm. I felt a sting shoot up my elbow and tried to hide my wince from my mom's paranoid, hawk-like eyes.

The next little challenge was trying not to feel small when we stopped in front of the tall, carmel-wooden door. My face could have been any assortment of color: white, pink, green... Holden knocked for me, and I was grateful: I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep my knuckles from rattling if I released them from under my arm.

The door opened, and I was caught off guard by the darkness of the room. It was intimidating, a little frightening, I saw the shadows cast by an intense light towards the back... oh, great. That's all I needed now. A spotlight.

"Hello," said a gentle voice. I finally noticed who was standing before us: a tall nurse, his dark hair shining like coal from the distant lights. He wore a cap around his mouth and nose, leaving only piercing eyes to descend like a taunt on my insecurity.

"Hello," my mom said shyly in return. "We're, um, my daughter is here to see Jace Freeman, if he's available?"  
A kindness settled over the nurse's eyes and I felt a small taste of relief.

"You've come at the perfect moment," he said matter-of-factly. "He's doing well for visitors, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask the rest of you stay out here; we're trying to keep numbers under overwhelming, for his condition, anyway."  
"Of course," my mom stammered. "We'll wait. Go on, Simmy."  
I nodded, and rose easily to my feet. I felt Holden's hand pass comfortingly over my shoulder, but when I turned to acknowledge him with a smile, he was already backing out down the hallway. I glanced back at the nurse, who seemed to smile beneath his mask and motioned forward to guide me into the room.

The bright light, I could see, was coming from behind an opaque, black curtain that hung just six feet out from the wall. What sat behind it, I couldn't see, but as my eyes adjusted to the surrounding darkness, I could identify the end of a bed sticking out past the last black fold.

I noticed several more things while my heart took it's time to settle down: two other doctors were tinkering through certain items on a counter just beside the curtain, pausing now and then. When their preparations were finished, they turned to flash my guiding nurse a friendly smile before filing silently towards a door at the east end. I watched them leave, and by the manner of their departure, I assumed they wouldn't be back for a while. I couldn't really believe my luck; I'd hoped for a time to just be alone with Jace. I guess things were going to work out.

Voices, low murmurs, rose up from behind the curtain as we neared it, and when I was in touching distance of it, a woman appeared at the side. Her waist length, dark auburn hair glowed in the bright light that shone from the head of the hidden bed. She glanced at me with surprise, soon after turning her face up from the bed, as if she had just finished a sentence.

"Lauren," the nurse said kindly, placing his white-gloved hand on my shoulder, "a friend is here to see Jace."

Lauren nodded--- a little hesitant?--- and offered me a small, broken smile. This must be his mother: the sadness in her eyes was far too distinguishable for her to be anyone else.

I suddenly felt a little guilty for never having met his parents. 'Oh, and by the way, I used to be your son's girlfriend'...

_Used_ to... ugh... those are nauseating words.

"All right," she said gently, "I'm sure he'd love to see you. Jace?"  
She leaned her head back around the curtain, and I followed suit. I swallowed the feelings buzzing wildly like ticked hornets inside my head.

Jace was sitting upright in the bed, his wrists resting on his bent knees. The white blanket around his legs hid his torso from view. The blinding light was just above his head, and all the intense shadows added a more solemn edge to the casualness across his features.

He saw me... and stared. I thought there was a smirk tugging at his lips. It was hard to tell; I could just stare back. Lots of coherency was lost at that moment, but other things came back too. Better things, things I needed more than coherency, and would gladly take up.

"Simone?" Despite his expression, he sounded stunned, elated, and his voice was soft with breath, low, smooth like velvet.

That voice... I remembered it so well! It was this tone, this _Jace_, I'd gone crazy for. Not the one who'd broken everything: no, it was _this_ one. He was here, he was back. I could have burst into song then and there.

I couldn't help grinning, couldn't help feeling something stinging in my eyes as I realized how hurt he really was.

"Hey, Jace," I whispered, because it was all I could do.

In my peripheral vision, I watched Lauren and the nurse exchange glances.

"I'll see you later, honey," Lauren breathed from behind me, and I saw Jace nod once.

Then her sillouhette disappeared, as did the nurse's, before I could even register a thought about how good or bad that was.

But hadn't I already decided?

It was just me and Jace.

Just how I wanted it.

I stood there for the first few seconds, staring at him. He realized the strain in my brow and the smirk finally came.

"Here..."  
Reaching over his shoulder, he switched off the blinding white light by some unseen switch. I hadn't even really identified where the light had come from. I blinked frantically, all my vision blacking out at first as that portable sun was suddenly snuffed out. Soon, there were just fuzzy colors swimming over my eyes, and then I could see.

He chuckled. "Sorry."

I shook my head, and found myself moving to his side.

"It's fine."  
I couldn't take my eyes off of his: it was like some kind of magnetism. I wondered who was the weaker force and who was the stronger. Actually, I sort of already knew. I'd always been the fish being reeled in by past memories, good ones, ones I always wanted to remember, to laugh about.

His chest lifted in a giant, silent sigh, and I realized then his hospital garb was unbuttoned, leaving the top of his bare breast open. Under that, a thick, white brace encircled his waist. The straps looked like those on a sky diver's parachute. My throat clenched, and I blinked the sting back from my eyes again.

"There's so much to say," he whispered, and I watched his shape mold back into the pillows propped upright as he was. For a second, I wished he hadn't switched off the light. I couldn't see his face as well.

I looked away, fighting frantically for control of good verses bad, past verses present.

"Start with the simplest," I suggested in barely a whisper; hey, at least I was talking. It was a start.

He was quiet for a moment, and I looked up to see if he'd fallen asleep or something. But when my eyes met his glittering black ones, I regretted it. Great. So much for a prison break.

"Okay," he said, and his smirk returned. "How are you?"  
I laughed in a whisper, but not feeling much humored. He seemed just as halfhearted. It was even more painful to know we were thinking the same things.

"Better than you," I managed, trying to dress up my voice in some old time's wit. It wasn't entirely futile.

He chuckled. "Don't need a second opinion to see _that._"  
"_You_ might," I replied. "You probably didn't even know you were hurt until the doctor told you so."  
His eyes darkened, and in horror I thought I'd offended him, but then he smirked wider.

"That's close, actually. But then again, you can't trust me: I was out too much to remember anything, really."  
I swallowed. I didn't want to ask it, but it was just too insistent.

"What _do_ you remember?"

He stared at me for a long moment, and then sighed again.

"You."  
"Me."

"Your car, actually. I recognized the interior."

Something wicked flashed behind his eyes, and my stomach dropped in memory:

_His hands tightened at my waist and he was kissing me again. I laughed against his mouth, pretending to fight his weight as it closed down on me. _

_"Are we in park?" I managed to breath in the few seconds I had a free pair of lips._

_He laughed with me, a mischievous sound, but so indifferent I felt a desire to feel that way too. _

_"The car's still brand new," I pushed, but I didn't really know what I was saying. "I don't want us... rolling into... a lamp post or something."_

_"I wasn't born yesterday, Simone," he murmured, his grin pressed against my chin._

_I was too busy this time to laugh. I just muttered something about him shutting up and brought my smile into his again. Soon I was on my back, the cream colored seats shooting up to my left. I was lying on an uncomfortable slant--- stupid incline function. Jace hovered over me, his lips busy, but when my eyes were open I couldn't see much past his thick, dark bangs that were constantly in my eyes; not that I minded, nor that I needed to _see_ him to know he was there._

_"Is my dad getting hives out on the porch?" I chuckled ._

_"You talk too much," he whispered, lips moving to my ear._

_I burst into another round of laughter. _

_"Give him one more month; get up, hurry!"  
I didn't stop kissing him as I sat up, shoving against his chest playfully with my elbow, trying to failing to ignore his murmurs of protest. _

_"It's always one more month..." His lips aimed for my neck, but I dodged him._

_"Do you want to live past sixteen or not?" I chided, speaking loudly now: he needed some volume sometimes to wake him up. _

_But when his lips just entered another round of the Charleston, I reached past his chest to grab the half-empty cup of coke from the cup holder. He pulled back, curious, and then laughed._

_"Are you going to dump that on me like last time?"_

_"Last time you asked for it," I chortled, and gripped the nape of his neck to hold his head still in one last long kiss, pulling away with a _smack_. He leaned out across the seat, still trying to reach me as I slid out the passenger door. I just laughed more, brushing the scattered bangs on my face back into order._

_"Park it next to my mom's truck," I instructed, and watched him smirk in defeat as he slid back to the steering wheel. I stepped aside, letting him back my car up the driveway..._

My face burned; his chuckle was almost inaudible.

"I helped you pick it out, remember? Cream leather..."  
"Yeah," I mumbled.

"What?" he pressed. I was bad at this, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

"Nothing!" I said quickly.

He studied me for a second, then sighed, giving up.

"It's too bad. It was a really nice car. Sorry about killing it."  
My throat contracted again. But it for sure wasn't about the car. "You didn't kill it, Jace."  
"I could've aimed for the back left door," he said casually. "Remember when it got that tiny little dent, barely a scratch, and you almost drove us to the dealership to get the whole door replaced?"  
"I don't care about a few dents," I mumbled, a little more firmly.

"Well, I'm really sorry, anyway, for not being too useful; you have insurance, don't you?"

My eyes smoldered. "Jace---"  
"You're right, It's better that I hit the back: A.J. was behind that door---"  
"Jace! Please!"

Without thinking, I leapt across the bed and threw my arms around his neck.

"Aah!" He inhaled harshly, contorting in pain. I jumped back in almost the same movement, terrified.

"Oh, Jace, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Argh, I'm such an idiot---!"  
He caught my flying wrist, holding it firmly in space so as to force the rest of my body to calm down. When I finally could, I stared with guilty, blurry eyes into his own. They were serene, almost humorous.

"No problem," he said smoothly, and I saw him wet his lips as he fought back what pain lingered.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking---"

"Shhh, you talk too much."  
My heart leapt again as he began to pull me gently back to his neck. I made perfect care this time not to touch his chest, trembling as I did. My arms wrapped gently and cautiously under his hair and I felt his hands moving rhythmically across my back.

The tears finally squeezed free, just two at first, running down the crook of my nose onto his throat.

"Jace... you... you gave..."  
"Do you need me to tell you again?" he chided softly from my hair.

"No!" I snapped, pulling back, wiping quickly at my eyes. "Darnit, Jace, listen to me! You almost gave your life to save him--- A.J.--- to save Kade--- and me---"  
I wiped harder, my wrists pushing blurry shapes and colors across my eyelids.

"Jace, _why_? What in the _world_ is going on? Thank you _so_ much! Who _are_ you? Why did you _do_ that? Give me some time to get used to this! I _miss_ you!"  
Everything I'd wanted to say just spilled out in such a sloppy order I flushed red again, and the tears that ran now were mostly embarrassment.

"Crap... crap, crap, crap..." I sniffed hard, turning away, dragging my sleeve over my face... But since I'd already screwed up any dignity I had left, I might as well wallow a little lower.

"I don't care about the stupid car," I moaned, sniffing some more. Once again, everything sort of tumbled out without any distinct order, without any real purpose except to get it all off my chest.

"You were such a... You hurt me. Badly. And now look, you've saved us from a s-semi! I don't talk to you for half a year and now _this_ is how I see you again! How awkward can things _get_?"

The silence that followed was almost unbearable. I could have sworn he'd disappeared or fallen asleep or... I tried not to think about him, about any unpredictable reaction. I just focused on getting my face dry, on getting any composure back. Gosh, I was being such a baby...

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

I didn't respond.

"I'm really, really, really, sorry," he sighed again, looking down at his lap.

Okay, Simone, pull yourself together. Of all times for you to start crying...

I flipped my hair back, exhaling deeply. I wished there was a window nearby I could stare out of, look cool, look... like I knew what I was doing.

"There really isn't an excuse for how I acted," he continued heavily.

I just stared at the wall.

"I..." he sounded unsure of his wording. "I'd like to say I was transformed by a bunch of punks, but no one can really change me but me, yeah?"  
I swallowed. The words I'd said to him... on that night when there'd been nothing but anger... _Don't give me that crap, Jace. No one can change you but you. When are you going to get yourself?_

"I think I get myself now," he muttered, and whether his words were for me or for him, I couldn't really tell. "Suicidal, rotten, no good... Yeah... I'm just a little late, I guess. I hope you take advantage of that."  
I snorted, finding a little of my old self returning. "Like what would I do?"

"_I_ could do eternal servitude," he suggested lightly. "I could wear suspenders and pinstriped socks all the way up to my knees till the end of the school year. I could jump off the top floor... It's really up to you."  
I shook my head. "If it's up to me, then all you need to do is walk again."  
He shrugged. "I was going to get confinement before, but they let me off the hook; maybe they've changed their minds."  
I leapt to my feet, the tears searing again.

"Jace Freeman, you take that back!" I shouted, my voice shaking.

"What?" He gazed at me, stunned. I reached down and seized either side of his head, holding his face up against my own.

"You do _not_ belong in juvi! Are you listening to me? Don't even _joke_ about that!"

"Simone, name one reason I shouldn't be kissing iron right now," he said, rolling his eyes.

There was one thing left to do, and surprisingly enough, I had no problem with it.

"Because I called first!" And I shoved my lips against his, kissing him hard and fast like an elbow in the jaw. I remembered how his lips felt, and it almost startled me how much I'd missed it. Usually I'd get a little more response out of someone like him, but now he was frozen like stone, probably shocked out of his mind. I had to admit, it was a bold move; I didn't even know if he felt that way anymore.

Dang... I now officially have a knack for pushing my luck.

I pulled away quick, jumping back and spinning around. I could feel his daze eyes on my back, and I folded my arms tight over my chest as if that would squeeze back most of the red now gushing to my face.

"Ow," he muttered. His tone was amused, matter-of-factly.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"No, no," he said teasingly. "Actually, it was the most enlightening punch in the mouth I've ever received."  
"You must have gotten a lot, then," I mumbled.

"You mean the punches like yours or literal punches?"

I had to laugh. "Mine. Though sometimes you deserve the other. Or both."

"Agreed, just as long as the right people give me the right ones."

I laughed again. "C'mon, you don't think girls can throw some pretty good punches?"  
"One girl can, anyway." His smirk was radiating against my back. "But she cheats; she uses extra amo, like ice-cold coke. But it confuses me because I think I'm giving her what she likes, and then she unloads on me."

I smiled. "I bet she likes it, she just likes to mess with you too."

"Yeah." He sighed. "I know."

A second of silence, then...

Jace cleared his throat. "But no, actually, I haven't gotten a lot of those punches. Not any that mattered nearly as much as yours, anyway."  
My faced burned hotter. "Really?"  
He sighed again, long and heavily. But I could hear the smile in his voice.

"You gonna make me kiss the back of your head?"  
I bit my lip against a grin, and turned to face him. No sooner had he taken my hands and pulled me gently towards him---

"Careful," I whispered, grinning. "I don't remember if Rocum left."

"And _now_ you worry about him?" He rolled his eyes.

He kissed me with the gusto I knew he was capable of, and it rocked.


	20. Chapter 20: Rugged Forever

19: RUGGED FOREVER

_A Thousand Miles Vanessa Carlton_

---

Hey. It's been my two weeks of stay-at-home since I left the hospital, and nothing really has changed.

Well, that's not entirely true. I'll give you the water-down version.

During my daily visit to Simone, Seth met Mika's sister Yvonne, and, well, you know, drool alert... I've also heard Simone and Jace made up pretty thoroughly, (the disarray of Simone's hair was enough a testimonial, too). We didn't bother to tell Seth, seeing as now his opinion of Jace and Simone's was pretty much near polar opposite. It's possible he could adjust over time, but that would have to be a long time. So for now, everything was settled: now Seth will be so busy pleasing Yvonne he'll forget I exist, and Simone and Jace will be the first couple to go steady while bedridden.

So maybe Holden, A.J., and I can catch a movie sometime.

Or... actually, (I heard this from A.J.), on his way to English a few days ago, Holden caught Jennifer in his arms as she tripped over her feet, and... well, it was a little too classic to go ignored, and now his phone line is almost always busy... (I can only imagine the horrors of his bill)... But that's okay. Honestly, none of it bothers me. I actually think Holden is bubbly enough to keep Jennifer happy, and as for him... maybe her braces are endearing. I don't know, but it's cute nonetheless.

Oh, and Tameron kissed A.J. when he saved her menace dog Zutara from some longboarders... Wow, is this an inside joke going on here? Is there some kind of national hookup holiday I'm missing? Cliché, I know...

Yet still, I'm not irritated. Really. I'm just a little surprised, is all. Observant. Aware... wishful.

I'd thought about calling Mika sometime, and not before long, I had. He'd been happy to hear from me, and after about ten minutes into our conversation he'd taken to leading the dance. We'd decided I could come hang out with he and his brothers at their hip-hop-slash-rap recording studio up in Palm Springs.

"You have your own recording studio?" I'd asked.

"It's a garage cram-packed with mikes and amps and recording crap," he'd replied. "All cheep; we bought most of it from some old sixties record place. But hey, it still works, though I can't say we're Eminem."

"I don't think you want to be," I'd said, and we'd shared a laugh.

But that was a few days ago, and the date we'd set would be next month, the next free slot they had.

So... yeah.

Sigh... Maybe this remote, quiet beach home is getting to me. I don't think I've moved much more than two feet in the last four days... And my head has healed to the point where I can stop wearing that ugly bandage. Now the wound is just a big red jagged line streaking up into my hairline. I've learned to style my bangs so that most of it is hidden.

I think I know what I need. When I get this mellow, I should do something just to do it. Just because it sounds appealing.

"Hey, Gran?"  
Six-forty five in the morning. Seth's left for school already; I'm staying home just for the rest of this week, mainly so I can get used to the new wall of bangs on the other side of my face.

I was twisting the paper up in my fingers in a tight, gray baton, sitting back in a kitchen chair, while Gran moved around in her bathrobe preparing coffee and cantaloupe. The two smells meshed in the air of the compacted cooking space like... a car crash... But a sweet smelling one.

Dude... I _really_ need to get out.  
"Your head hurting, Katydid?" She'd always assumed the worse. She looked at me with wide, caring eyes, her hands pausing over the large turquoise bowl where all the fruit was dumped.

"No," I sighed. "I was just thinking... I'd like to take a trolley up to the city. Maybe up into Oceanside... you know, just to move."  
Her eyes narrowed, the bags at her chin drooping with her frown.

"Are you sure you feel up to it, pumpkin? You've been really settled these past few days."  
"That's the point," I said patiently. "I'm feeling a little... I don't know, lacking. I'd like to go somewhere new; it sounds nice."  
She chopped a few more slices, her movements slow and deliberate as she concentrated...

"Well," she sighed, and smiled softly. "As long as you think it would help, I say do it. Would you like me to come with you?"  
It sounded like she wanted to. In my original plans, I'd pictured no one with me, but I couldn't let down such a loving face.

"Um... I'd like to go alone, if that's all right, but if I could borrow your phone, I'd be sure to call you every now and then."  
Gran bit her lip, slicing a little more sloppily.

"I'm just a little worried, sweetie," she sighed. "Maybe you should wait till Seth gets back. That way you'd have someone to come get you if you feel you need to come home."  
Then I remembered: Gran had another convention. She'd probably be on duty all day.

"Oh, I'll be okay," I said, improvising. "I'll just be walking, and the trains'll get me home. Holden gave me a map of the county; I think I can navigate okay. I'll just be sight seeing, there's plenty of that going on, right?"

It was a won battle, I just wanted to assure her I wasn't going to get mugged or something. This wasn't like wandering off at nine P.M. and getting mixed up in a gang of hot guys plotting to attack a kid's house. Somehow, despite all dull demeanor, I managed to get the message through.

And the next thing I knew, I was in the compartment of a small, red trolley, leaning against a window, watching the roads and buildings and all the people move by in streaks.

A bell chimed somewhere up ahead of me, a pleasant clanging I'd until now heard only in movies. Exhaust blew in the open windows like aimless thoughts, and I slouched lower in the maroon leather seat in an attempt to avoid it's stink. With it came the scent of burgers, and fries, and sizzling bacon... The world was still waking up. While I drifted farther and farther into a state much like sleep, the people around me were beginning to rouse. Their lives were like the sunlight, like the buzz of cars, some distant background I knew existed, I just wasn't a part of. Heat crept subtly up my arm, unfamiliar and unwanted. Once the dawn was shattered and day began, then I'd officially be on some other planet.

The city hardly captured my attention. I kept vague track of where I was, mumbling city names under long, dreary sighs. Once and a while my legs would nudge my senses, and I'd step off onto a random corner and walk with the crowd, let myself get picked up in the current of Caucasian and hispanic and african american; thick, sweaty bodies; big, bold ambitions; soft, trickling daydreams. Steps, honks, scrapes, hisses, shouts, laughs, sizzles, clangs...

...The ripping of an engine, a thrilling snarl, one I'd been so close to before, and now seemed so far away from... A crowd cheering, people all joined together screaming a single name, one I knew, one I missed to the point of aching...

A cell phone ring tone flickered to life somewhere to my right. A woman answered.

He'd said he would call, and he had... Our conversation had just been one big mask. I'd almost told him... everything.

I stepped wrong and brushed a leather jacket passing by.

"Sorry..." Yeah, I remember... a leather seat, one I'd never trust. A warm, broad torso I could hug as close as I wanted, a sweet smelling shirt.

The breeze picked up over the rising sunlight... Bangs besides my own, darker, thicker, fluttered into my eyes as the air rushed past us...

My hand passed over a different leather seat. The trolley bell rang overhead. Soon I was moving again, the world passing in a single glass square, like a movie I could sit and watch. Leather... hmmmm... I remembered the feel of his neck, a soft cheek to brush with the tip of my nose as he would turn a glance over his shoulder.

My dismal, vacant expression caught the eye of a boarding passenger: a massive white coat, a tangle of gold medallions, and an upside-down visor over dark brown skin. As long hands groped the seats, looking for a free slot, he smirked in my direction, and then he was gone down the aisle, and the trolley jerked back into movement... I remembered that crooked twist of a smile, only on a different pair of lips, and certainly not adorned with gangsta attitude. My head gently hit the window in my usual gazing position, and in his rearview mirror, I could see that smirk...

What had he said to me on our last phone call? When had that been, anyway... how long ago? It felt like a lifetime...

_"Can I come help you move in?" I asked: the second offer._

_"We're done," he said._

_"Do you like your new school?" I wanted more of his voice. I'd throw out his opinion on the weather if I had too._

_"Haven't gone yet," he replied. "My uncle's giving me a week off."  
"Lucky you."  
"You get to ditch too, don't you?"_

_"Well, yeah." I sighed. "But it's not the same. There's no satisfaction. Most of the time Gran just makes me sleep."  
"What do you do all day?"_

_"Didn't I just tell you?"  
"You can't _just_ sleep, Kade, you have to do other stuff. I'm just curious."  
"How about you answer, then I will. And I want honesty, seriousness."_

_"C'mon, Kade... will you give me a break about that?"  
"It'll stick for a while, so don't start counting down days."  
He sighed heavily. "Fine. I drive laps at the arena. Sometimes I go down to the beach and rip around there."_

_"That's it?" Now, knowing all the details, I could so picture him zooming across beige sand on his spotless black motorcycle, totally reckless, so good with it..._

_"Yep." I almost heard him shrug. "What else is there to do? Watch T.V.?" He snorted. "I don't think so."  
"What about the computer?" I asked. "Do you have e-mail? I.M.?"_

_"No. Why would I?"  
"Because you have friends, duh." I rolled my eyes._

_"Right," he grumbled. "Sorry, I forgot."  
My heart clenched. "C'mon Zane. What, do you think the whole world hates you?"  
"Maybe I make it too easy."_

_I laughed. "For certain people, yes."  
"Yourself, I'm guessing?"  
I smirked. "That used to be the case. Not anymore."  
"Good. I was actually worried that ki..."_

_But he caught himself, clearing his throat._

_"So, um, has your head healed?"  
"More than not," I said. "I don't have to wear that bandage anymore."  
"I bet you're happy. It was huge."  
"I know it was."  
"Will you... have a scar?"  
I swallowed; if I did, he of all people would be able to relate._

_"I might. It's likely. But I can sort of wear my bangs so that it's covered..."  
"Great," he sighed. "I'm glad."  
"Well, I think it'll become less distinct over time. Scars tend to do that."  
"Some do..." _

_I'd almost asked him then; I'd been so close to just coming out and asking the burning question._

_Zane, how did you get your burn scar?  
"Zane..."  
"Yeah?"  
"Um... you still looking for a free day? When we can visit?"  
He exhaled. "Yeah, I am. Sorry, Kade, I'm just..."  
"I understand if you're busy; take your time, I'm... I'm okay."  
"No... okay. I'm not busy, I'm just... being delayed."  
I giggled. "Isn't that the same thing?"  
"Not in my case. Definitely not."_

---------

In the speakers above my head, a new song had begun playing. Before, when I'd been conscious enough to care, I hadn't really liked the trolley driver's choice of station, but the new song sort of caught my attention. I began to grow aware of the lyrics, and before long, I'd zeroed in with enough concentration that I was able to catch most of it.

_Staring blankly ahead_

_Just making my way_

_Making my way _

_Through the crowd._

_And I need you_

_And I miss you_

_And now I wonder..._

_If I could fall_

_Into the sky_

_Do you think time_

_Would pass me by_

_'Cause you know I'd walk_

_A thousand miles_

_If I could_

_Just see you_

_Tonight..._

The trolley stopped with a clang and several people disembarked. I stayed on, listening to the song.

_It's always times like these_

_When I think of you_

_And I wonder_

_If you ever_

_Think of me_

'_Cause everything's so wrong_

_And I don't belong_

_Living in you_

_Precious memories_

I continued to listen, just for the sake of listening, long after the song had changed and moved to another, and another... Finally the bell above chimed again and the motion around me slowed to a stop. Shapes rose, different colors moving towards the doors opening to let in a fresh waft of fast food and car exhaust. I listened to the different voices, the snarls of passing cars, and then decided the drifting breeze was appealing.

Rising vaguely to my feet, I made my way in a dreamlike state to the exit doors.

The sun was high overhead now, but some strange cloud-cover had been cast as well, and so despite the lighter air outside, there was no need to squint. I could tell we were closer to the ocean: a salty scent that wasn't french fries had picked up now and was flitting about like indecision over the passing heads. I turned in place and recognized some more evidence to our location: five or six shacks stood together, dark with shade, selling stacks upon stacks of orange crabs. As soon as I faced it, the distinct smell of fish caught up in my nostrils and it was so intense I had to turn away quickly, almost coughing.

Five paces to my right, the back door of the trolley was still unloading, hissing steam out it's back until the last person stepped off; the clanging erupted and the big red train was off again, rattling across it's tracks. The people moved fast around me, as if in an effort to clear the area. I spotted a bench right before the curb, above which loomed a sign signaling in the trolley's stopping point. Feeling a slight ache in the soles of my feet, I went thankfully and sank down on it's end.

I sat still for a minute, adjusting to the cold metal beneath my jeans, and then caught the stream of a new smell. Looking over my shoulder, to my left, I noticed back about fifteen feet from the curb was a small coffee shop. The door was held wide open, letting the tantalizing aroma of mocha saunter out and tap wallets on the shoulder. Only three or four small, circular tables were set up right below the shop windows, each with two iron café chairs. All the seats were vacant, neatly pushed in, yet I could hear the rumble of activity from inside the shop.

This smell too threatened to intoxicate me after a moment and so I turned away, looking down at my knees. Seconds passed... minutes...

"Kade?"

And I rose from the dead.

I jumped to my feet, gazing, shocked, overjoyed, at Zane. He stood just ten feet away with the same expression. I could have been looking in a mirror.

"Zane!"  
I'd never ran so fast in my life. As soon as he was in reach I flung myself into his arms, knocking him off balance.

"Woah!"  
He stumbled back several steps, struggling to catch my waist before I could lift off the ground and wrap my legs around him too.

"What's up!" I laughed. "I'm so happy to see you! This is crazy! Where did you come from? I can't believe you're here!"  
He chuckled heavily, and I melted when he tightened his arms around me.

"Yeah, that times a thousand."

I sighed in his shoulder and just clung to him for as long as I could before...

"Okay..." His hands worked to push me back, tenderly, almost reluctantly. I let him, stepping back a pace and trying to hide how much blood was really in my cheeks.

He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair again, and I watched him in awe.

He was an angel. His navy blue sweater might have been white, the broad shoulders that were set in determination could have sprouted long, bright wings. I watched his hair, remembering how much I loved how the slightest of breeze would ruffle his bangs, making them ripple across his eyes. It happened now, and something swelled so hard in my chest I thought I'd burst. His fraying jeans, his rolled-up sleeves, his gray T shirt with the usual ripped neckline...

Perfection at it's most rugged.

"So... what're you up to?" he asked, still a little dazed from our embrace.

"Just out to see the city," I replied, smiling up at him. "Out for some air."

"How are you feeling?" He was just like Gran, linking my escape with pain.

And he was right, just not thinking of the right kind of pain.

"Fine," I said, beaming. "Never better."

He smiled smally and let his hand fall from his neck.

"And you?" I asked.

"How am I feeling or what am I doing here?"

"Both."  
"Okay... I'm feeling really dizzy."  
I blushed. "Sorry."  
"No... it's all the fish smells."  
I blinked and laughed.

"Oh! That's easy. Just switch me places."  
I walked around him and he around me so he was by the bench and I below the sign.

"Better?" I asked.

He sighed deeply. "Yeah. Thanks."  
"So what're you doing?"

"I'm headed somewhere."  
"Oh." I felt my face fall. "Well, I don't want to hold you up..."  
"No, no," he said, and stepped forward. "I got time, it's all cool."  
I grinned. "Great."

He wet his lips, and a nervous light came into his eyes.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Nothing, just..."

Then he full-on frowned, and conjured a plastic bag almost from nowhere. Reaching into it, he withdrew...

My jeans.

"What were your jeans doing on my front porch?" he asked.

I smiled. "Well, I sent them to you. As a Re."  
"As a what?

"A return. A return for your jeans?" I studied his face, but he just stared at me, blank.

Worry boiled in my stomach.

Then suddenly he clutched his forehead.

"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh, the jeans..."  
I laughed a laugh that shed all the nervousness like a melting frost.

But he was far from humorous. He squeezed his eyes shut, moaning.

"Judas Priest, I'm gonna kill him..." he muttered under his breath. "I said I'd do it before, but now I really am..."  
"Zane?"

He looked at me warily from between his fingers.

I lifted a hand to brush back a drifting bang. "Do you want to explain?"  
He scrutinized me for a moment, and then let his hand drop.

His eyes were warm now.

Whew. I'll just drown in them now, if you'll excuse me...

"Er... explain what?" he finally asked, folding his arms over his chest.

There was a scraping noise from a distance behind me as someone sat down at the café tables. I tried to block out all sound, just focus on him.

"Those," I said, and threw a guesture at my jeans. "How you're acting. The whole situation."

He bit his lip, looking down.

"Yeah... all right... um..."

His eyes were nervous. Endeared, I resisted the incredibly forceful urge to hug him again.

"Now, just know that... this--- okay."  
Closing his eyes, he held up a hand to signal starting over.  
"What's the problem?" I laughed. "We both know the truth now; what's still so hard?"  
"The truth?" He suddenly fell bitter. "Hm... Now that really is something."

"Oh, so there's something else?" My laughter died: I was feeling more confused now than humorous. "Well, it's no surprise: like you said, I'm awful at catching on."  
"You are," he agreed, shrugging, "but this one you get free."  
"Oh." I raised my eyebrows. "That's good."

"First off..." He lifted the jeans, brandishing them between us, "_technically_, these should have gone to someone else."  
(Uh... okay, what did he say?)

Shush up.

(That could mean a variety of things... One, he's not interested---)

Shush... _up_.

(Well, you're the dominant mind, you ask him!)

"Uh... all right..." I scrutinized him, growing worried. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said slowly, as if he were expecting this exact reaction, "that _technically_ I didn't give my jeans to you."  
(Okay, another cliff hanger... C'mon, Kade, you gotta keep the ball rolling here...!)

Quiet! I'm working on it!

"But..." I shook my head, frowning now, "I don't get it; they're yours."  
He winced. "Yeah. But I didn't give them to you."

It was an effort to control myself.

"Listen, Zane... If you like messing with me, by all means, continue, but just for my sake, if you could..."  
"Look." His expression said he was trying just as hard as I was to keep patient. Or maybe he was confused too?  
"I... Okay. You know the whole story behind the jeans, don't you? From the chick flick magazine?"  
"Sure, yeah."  
"All right. So, yes, the jeans were for that reason, but it wasn't _conducted_ by me."

"Yeah... okay, I get that. So..."

"So..." He took a deep breath now, and lifted a hand to massage the back of his neck. "Remember the lock down? When I gave you back your mom's necklace?"  
Peh. Vividly. "Yep."

He stared at me closely, like he was waiting for something.

"What?" I glanced down at my shirt.

"What do you think it was for?" he asked.

I shrugged, now really lost. "I don't know, drugs? They never told us."

I swore there was the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips.

"When _else_ do you think my jeans got in your locker?" he asked, and his tone was gentle now. He was amused.

I was hit with a wave of awareness, yet...

"But you were in the room with me," I said, shaking my head.

He rolled his eyes.

"Of course I was, I'm a _student_, aren't I?"

My mouth opened several times before I spoke.

"You're saying one of the _school_ _workers_ put your jeans in my locker during the lock down?" It sounded unlikely. "Did you hire one of them?"  
He grimaced. "Hardly."

I sighed, smiling. "Well, you'll have to help me out a little. Since the jeans... I've always been a little slow on things."

He smirked. "Yeah. I know."

For a minute, I found that all I could do was stare at him. And he just stared back, like we were reading eachother's minds. Man, if so, then would I be in trouble...

"Well," I breathed after a minute, "who did it?"

The fondness in his gaze turned to a scowl again. But it was cute.

"My uncle," he grumbled.

(Hold it, hold it, hold it. His uncle---?)

"Your _uncle_?" Man, this was never going to end.

He grimaced deeper. "The janitor. You know, he was audience for one of our famous arguments... Really inspired him, His Royal Tea- Loving Kookiness..."

I smiled, the confusion draining. "What did you call him?"  
"Aeva's invention," he muttered.

Awe took confusion's place in my heart, and with a small chuckle I looked down at the sidewalk. Before me, Zane shifted tensely: impatience?

"Huh. The janitor was your unc---"

I couldn't speak anymore; I could barely _breathe_ anymore.

Because I suddenly didn't have a free pair of lips.

Zane's mouth was impossibly soft, but it felt more like a tidal wave blasting away any last scrap of consciousness I had. Any kiss on T.V., any kiss at all, was grossly imperfect when I felt the mold of his lips surround mine.

His fingers glided from my back to the indent of my waist, holding me still incase I was crazy enough to pull back--- peh. Right. Funny. He kissed me again, some heavenly probing I had no idea could exist legally, and my jackhammer heart burst through my ribcage; eyes, senses, they all closed, shut down completely. All I knew was the silky depth of his hair, tangled around and around in my clawed fingers. I hoped in the effort of returning as much as he was giving that I wouldn't be arrested for homicide.

And he kissed me again... again, again, again--- smack, bam, whack: the softest, most dragging slaps in the world. Zane was the only creature in the universe with the right to be slow. He drank me up, pressing, lingering, then pulling away, all at exactly the right moments... Holy crap, had this guy been tutored or something?

Heaven forbid we should get onto _that_ train of thought. I was jealous enough with him _faking a smile_ at other girls.

He broke off and paused just long enough to smirk.

"You're getting off subject," he whispered against my face, his breath like a sleeping drug, and then plunged back in. I was too breathless to register what he'd said, let alone what he was talking about. Yeah, I was pretty much dead.

I lost track of time after about a thousand years... Even still, it had to end at some point, and when he finally pulled away it required a gentle tug: hey, you don't expect me to give up without a fight, do you?

The bridge of his nose slid up my cheekbone as he straightened, and when my eyes opened he had stepped back, his head still tilted down towards mine, studying me from under his eyelashes.

It hurt to inhale, but when I finally got breath back in my lungs, my words came out as a long exhale.

"You wanna do something tonight?"

He chuckled, a genuine smile pushing up one corner of his mouth.

"No kidding."

He glanced over his shoulder, and I suddenly noticed the red trolley had returned from a route: wow, that was fast... It pulled up at Zane's back, it's bell chiming in proclamation. He turned to smirk at me, and I swore I saw a hint of pink on his cheeks. Though I probably looked like a steaming stove unit...

Around us, people began appearing, loading the trolley, all talking, all living...

And I was finally living with them.

Dang, it felt good.

"I gotta go," Zane murmured apologetically, chuckling. "...need to be somewhere at nine thirty..."

I grabbed his hands, pulling him fiercely against my chest. Not on my watch.

"I'll call you," he promised, and untangled our fingers.

"You can't just walk away," I whined breathlessly, trying to roll my eyes.

He smirked his adorable smirk, and moved backwards up the steps. "Are _you_ going anywhere?"

I shook my head frantically. "I'm here for you, dummy."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"So, c'mon."  
I nearly tripped in my hurry to be at his side; I didn't care anymore that people were watching, that my face was so steaming red you could fry an egg on my forehead.

All that mattered was that he took my hand, chuckling in my hair, and lead me through the packed aisles towards the back. And when I was thrown off balance as we jerked into motion down the busy streets, I landed right where I wanted to be.

His arms.

-----------

My name is Isaac.

I've been watching my nephew and the sweet girl Miss Waters, the product of my efforts, from a café table, mug in hand, amid the busy air of just another average day.

And tea has never tasted better.

---------------------------

THE END

----

A\N: thanks so much for reading guys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! c ya!!! zutara forever!!


	21. The Epilogue of Much Recognition

THE EPILOGUE OF MUCH RECOGNITION

---

_First Time Lifehouse_

---  
**A/N**: Okay, you finally squeezed it out of me. Here's as much of a sequel I'm ever going to get around to, so enjoy An Epilogue!! yay for them lol! I would really love to do a sequel, it would just rock, but i've got too many other projects i REALLY need to get under way. So here's this, just cuz Zutara is awesome and STJ ended with tons of unanswered loops! (if you look closely you'll find them ;).

REVIEWS ARE BROWNIES!!!!!!!!! PLEAZ REVIEW!!

Zutara Forever!

P.S. Y'know, people may say Zutara's in it's darkest hour because Katara SPOILER ALERT "threatened to kill Zuko" in The Western Air Temple episode... (yeah right, i'd like to see Katara kill someone. Mm, hm. Sure. Whatever, girl.) So yeah, that's being used as MAJOR Kataang leverage right now (hacksnarlvomit) but in my opinion, END OF SPOILERZUTARA HAS NEVER BEEN STRONGER!! Have you noticed tons of the brilliant AND SUCCESSFUL love stories started with people hating eachother? e.g.: Han Solo and Leia Skywalker, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, Belle and the Beast, Sinbad and Marina (haha) etc., etc., etc. And soon to be added, ZUKO AND KATARA! (at least we hope, lol)

Anyway, I'm ranting, you get the idea, you're all Zutarans! Thanx for reading, you guys rock!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

September eighth, first week of school. I can't begin to tell you how amazing the summer was, but now, in this moment, I think the world is even more amazing. Thinking the car crash was just months previous in April gives me the chills. Chills of happiness.

Miracles happen all the time. Keep your eyes open, you'll see them everywhere.

They don't have to be huge to be recognized or to qualify for a miracle.

But this one _was_ huge, and it blows me away every time I pass him in the halls.

----------

Simone laughed: I'd never heard her laugh like that, not ever. Come to think of it, she was really different in every little way. Her eyes were a brighter olive, so much more life spread her lips as she smiled. The weighty attitude that had previously dampened her humor was now gone. There was nothing but genuine happiness in her voice. The green polish on her fingernails and toes was fresh and intricately placed, she was wearing mascara and sparkles on her eyelids. In that moment when she laughed I would've given lots to look as beautiful as she did.

She bent down to grasp Jace's wrists and his fingers encircled hers. Jennifer, her hand intertwined with Holden's, was jumping up and down with excitement while Holden returned my smile. Seth stood to the side, stealing glances every once a while over his shoulder and sometimes letting a small smirk perk his lips, but not enough to dampen his honor, don't worry. Giggle.

Simone carefully set her toes against Jace's, giving him a brace as he slowly worked to rise to a stand. Tyson Arleng, who stood behind the wheelchair working as Jace's chaperone, set one hand on his back to support him. Jace made it to a stand--- he was good at that part--- but his legs trembled slightly and he stumbled involuntarily forward. With a laugh and a light 'woah!', Simone caught him in an embrace, setting him back on his heels. Jace laughed with her, holding her close until he had his balance.

Holden, Jennifer, Tyson, and I all cheered and applauded. Simone reached up to kiss Jace's cheek.

"You wanna try to walk?" she asked, beaming up at him. He was at least a head taller than her. "You're doing so great."

His arms encircled her tighter.

"If I fall on you, I might not be able to get up," he said, and mischief glinted behind his eyes. She just laughed and nestled her face in his shoulder while he somehow managed to lift her off the ground. She started to protest but Jace ignored her, setting her feet down on top of his. Tyson stayed close behind with the wheelchair incase Jace had to fall but it didn't look like he would. Love gave him strength and strength helped him afford... peh, sorry, we just started _Romeo and Juliet_ in English class.

We watched him teeter again but this time it was intentional: he grabbed Simone playfully as she squeaked in alarm. We laughed, of course: Simone had been slightly bipolar these last few days. She'd be begging Jace to get out of his wheelchair and try walking, and then as soon as he actually took her on it, she was suddenly paranoid, telling him to sit back down.

The warning bell buzzed above us. Briskly, Jennifer and Holden said their good-byes and bustled off hand-in-hand, he escorting her to her classroom as always. Seth sauntered away a little quicker than usual, shooting Jace one last blank glance before catching one of his buddies and losing track of his ex-enemy completely. After waving my own see-yah's, I turned over my shoulder to catch Jace pull Simone into a kiss, which apparently she wasn't expecting, but her purse and books falling to the floor didn't seem to stop her from kissing him back.

Mrs. Wulsy was a little more mellow today: it was Friday; she must have learned in her years of teaching that the kids were too psyched about the weekend to be enlightened so she showed little effort in doing so. She simply gave us some busy work and let us waste the whole period chatting.

Simone barely made it in on time: she'd just finished chiding Jace for holding her up so long, falling down in her seat with a sigh and shooting me a nervous smile.

I couldn't help feel warmed. Those two were so... I don't know. They just made me feel better.

Class droned on, Simone getting into sports talk with Holden, and so I was officially zoned out when suddenly my phone (Yes! _My_ phone! Seth got it for me as an early birthday present!) chimed and vibrated against my thigh in my jean pocket. You'd think I'd get busted the instant Mrs. Wulsy heard it, but I do need to mention it was a phone with a ring that ears over the age of thirty couldn't hear.

Gran had disapproved, but Seth had just kept telling me how close he'd come to keeping it for himself and buying me a different one. I was glad he gave it to me, and he soon became glad too: I was recently getting a lot more calls than him, as unbelievable as that sounds.

But this one wasn't a call: this little chime was for text and stuff.

I didn't need to look at the number to know who it was.

I swiftly flipped the phone out and open, looking down with a smile at the screen. It read:

_hey u. happy birthday._

I grinned and quickly texted back. Simone had spent five hours in my room teaching me how.

_hey yourself. thnx! are u in class?_

It didn't take a minute for the next message to buzz into view.

_yes. i'm not always sluffing_

I giggled, stifling a laugh, and quickly punched in reply:

_as long as you don't get in trouble. ;p i miss u_

Another minute...

_i miss u too. i'm coming tonight, remember?_

A thrill of excitement shot up my stomach. I couldn't help giggling again, as fangirly as it sounds.

_is that a trick question? _I texted_. it's all i've been able to think about for the last week._

I waited...

_oh well then i'll try not to disappoint you._

His sweet smirk appeared in my mind. I might have been hovering above the rest of the class.

_that's impossible. _

Mrs. Wulsy stood up and began assembling the overhead.

I sighed and punched in: _well... i might need to go soon._

_ok me too. just kidding i'm sluffing._

_you're sluffing???!!! get back in class!!!_

My chuckle and intake of breath got Simone's attention: she glanced over her shoulder and smirked.

"So how's Zane?" she asked lightly. "Is he touring the country yet?"  
I laughed. "He's probably more scared of that idea than I am."  
_simone says hi, ZaZa. and are you really sluffing?_

Simone waited with me this time.

_no i'm in class. hi Sim wutsup._

"All right, I'll leave you two alone now," Simone said, still smirking playfully and leaning away back to Holden.

I turned too and let my thumb loose.

_she's great. _I left out the Jace detail, seeing as Zane was even farther behind on the warming-up-to-Jace scale than Seth ever will be. _so what time r u coming?_

_maybe six. i'll be there. stop worrying._

Even in text messages, he could read my mind.

_oh fine i will. i'll see you at six._

I almost tapped in... nah, high school kids like he and I didn't say that to eachother...

But then his reply came.

_ok. love you Kade._

If I tried telling you how I felt, I'm afraid we'd be here for an hour.

_love you Zane._

----------

Yes, it was my birthday, as you may have guessed. Right after school was my "friends" party, after which in the evening would be my "family" party. In other words, chaos and _then_ dignity.

Simone, Holden, A.J., Tameron, Tyson, Jace, and Jennifer were there: Seth had been hesitant to let Jace through the front door, but after remembering he was in a wheelchair and receiving a disapproving look from me, I guess he consented. He just sat at the extreme opposite of the room and eventually disappeared altogether, claiming he'd gotten a phone call from Yvonne.

That phone call lead to the arrival of Mika. Jeremiah, Sosaia, and Tao weren't able to make it, but I was able to forgive them. Gran was busy enough handling so many teenagers in her house, especially a handicapped along the way; I didn't think she'd need a posse of gigantor Samoans to further define 'a party'.

She shooed us all into the living room and set us up with a movie until the cake and all that was ready. A.J. and Tameron were the only ones paying attention to the T.V., and even then they were whispering and giggling in their own little world. Tameron had brought her chihuahua Zutara, by the way, and it had just gained a new friend: Gran was carrying it around wherever she went, cooing and coddling it all over the place... that little beast didn't bark once during the entire afternoon. Tameron didn't mind, of course: she had A.J.

I talked mostly to Mika and Tyson: everyone else had their boy\girlfriend to chat with, and Jennifer and I were awkward enough that we weren't relishing introductions anytime soon. (One word: Zane. Hey, Holden had requested her presence, not me.) Both Mika and Tyson seemed to subtly compete for my attention: the 'winner' came out flat as I looked over to see what movie was on and caught it at a peticularly terrifying part. (I learned later it had been A.J.'s choice, he trying to scare Tameron with at least freaky noises if freaky images weren't possible.) I jumped out of my skin and grabbed Tyson's torso, not missing the smirk he shot at Mika over my head nor the grimace he got in return. But apparently it was all banter: they joked around like brothers for the rest of the party.

Seth didn't reappear from his room until the words 'cake' and 'ready' entered the premises. In the kitchen, Gran was clutching Zutara close under her arm as she served us all. I'd made a special request to skip any kind of song, and I think everyone was thanking me for that whether knowingly or not.

And then I was seventeen. Well, not officially: I'd be officially seventeen at ten thirty that night, but blowing out the candles sort of passed. We ate like pigs, even the girls. I actually think the girls beat the guys by two pieces, but Seth and Jace were worthy opponents. Jennifer and Mika had been the only ones to keep some dignity and not participate in gorging themselves.

Presents next... My favorite was Jace's. Come on, there has to be a sentimental moment at every party. I'd told him I wanted nothing more than he to stand up and walk over to me for a hug, which he did in three paces to the excitement of us all. And even as Seth looked away at the floor, I hugged Jace as tight as I could.

-----------

"Wasn't that fun? I thought it was so much fun."  
I reached across the table for the salt. "It was. I had a blast. Though I think you spent most of your time with the dog."

Gran shrugged, busily slicing her lasagna. "I talked with you kids, didn't I?"  
"As soon as we started whimpering," Seth mumbled. He smirked and Gran just scowled.

As we sat there eating my birthday dinner, it started. The bubbly, fizzy tingle of excitement. It started in my stomach, moving quickly to my fingertips and toes.

"What time is it?" I asked a little hastily, looking at the clock over Gran's head.

"Five forty?" Seth guessed.

"Eat some more lasagna, pumpkin," Gran chided, sensing my anxiety. "You love this stuff and I never make it, and now when I do, you haven't eaten any."  
"I've eaten tons!" I turned back to my plate. "And I thanked you a thousand times."

"Did I burn the bottom?" she asked, wincing.

"No, no. It's perfect, Gran, really."

"Then eat! You've got plenty of time."  
Seth's arm crossed over my plate and then receded, bearing the salad bowl.

"Seth? Eating salad?" I raised an eyebrow. "It must be a special occasion."  
Seth merely reached over and sliced a bite out of my lasagna with his fork, lifting it up and pushing it against my mouth.

"Augh--- stop! I'm gonna eat it."  
"So what was your favorite present, Katydid?" Gran asked.

I didn't tell the exact truth; I didn't want Seth getting moody when we were sitting in such close proximity to eachother at our little round table.

"Yours and Seth's."  
"Really?" She sounded genuinely surprised.

"Yeah," I persisted. "A thirty-song iTunes gift card? I'm set. And those jeans you gave me were really cute."

"I can't believe you're seventeen," Gran sighed, shaking her head. "It seems just yesterday you were sixteen."  
"That's 'cause I was," I said.  
"Zane should get you something really nice," Seth hummed. My stomach leapt into my throat. Compared to Jace's situation, Seth had welcomed Zane into our family system with open arms. "Like an iPod mini."  
"He knows I don't need one," I said, blushing slightly. "They're way expensive. And I have a Nano."

"So what? The mini's are sweet. And he needs to get you expensive things, if he wants to last long around here, anyway."  
He caught my eye and cleared his throat.

"Erm, I mean, a gift card would be generous of him."

"Teenagers are so strange," Gran murmured. "They value such little things."  
"Everything's little now, Gran," Seth said, his spark returning. "Soon Apple's gonna find a way to shrink human beings. The iPod mini is just the beginning, soon you'll have i_Kid_ minis."  
"Well, I'm glad I'll be dead by then," Gran mumbled.

"Hey, you never know," Seth said. "They're making time smaller too."  
"Yes, that's all this world needs," Gran said. "Less time."

"Now there's an idea," I said. "Why don't they make gigantic iPods? Like ones as big as houses."  
"Why, so when the Titans drop by, we can lend 'em some tunes?" Seth asked.

"All right, I think you kids are done," was Gran's drone.  
"No, no." Seth and I dug in to our half-eaten plates.

And then suddenly I heard it.

A metallic snarl, the rip of an engine growing louder and closer. When it reached it's mark, it faded down to a purr and stood still.

I leapt to my feet.

"Zane's here!"  
Gran and Seth both jumped, looking up at me with ranging emotions.

"Are you sure? How do you know?" Gran also hopped from her seat and hurried to the window, peeking through the blinds. She spun around with a gasp.

"It's him!"  
"See you, guys!" My smile might have ripped my face in half. I dashed into the living room, snatching my sweater off the couch and then blitzing back to the kitchen. Quickly I hugged Seth's head; he'd remained in a state of startlement.

"Bye, Seth!"  
Gran was at the front door, nearly jumping up and down.

"Have a great time, Katydid!" she squealed, pulling me into a hug. I pried myself loose almost the instant she grabbed me, wrenching the front door open and stumbling out onto the porch as if pulled by a magnet. And as far as I could see, I was.

There on the curb, just a few feet from the edge of our driveway, was a sleek, black motorcycle propped on an angle in it's park.

And beside the seat, frozen in mid-step, was my man.

Zane blinked when he saw me, the light from our kitchen falling on his figure that was previously cloaked in twilight's darkness. He'd apparently missed the detail that I'd be listening for him every nanosecond and so therefore really wouldn't need to knock on the door.

He smiled, content, and opened his arms.

I ran as fast as I could and literally threw all my weight around his neck. He used my force to propel a spin and twirled me towards the lawn. I was sure Gran was there with popcorn and a lawn chair watching us laugh into eachother's hair, and Seth too, no doubt, peering through the blinds. I didn't care for a minute.

When Zane set me down on my feet, I slipped back just far enough to meet his eyes. He set his nose against mine and for a moment all we could do was smile.

"Hey, you," I said. "How's L.A.?"

"Pretty lonely," he said, smirking, and I just buried myself in his arms again.

"You're early."  
"Is that good?"  
"Well, what do you think it is?" I demanded, and pulled away again, laughing. Our fingers wrapped together and he drew me back close against his forehead.

"Happy birthday," he whispered.

I grinned. "Thanks. Now I've caught up with you."  
"Well, mine's in just a month."  
"Really? It is?"  
"Yeah."  
"Dang."  
We laughed, moving into another hug.

"Did your uncle drive you down here?" I asked into his shoulder.

"Nah, I came alone. He's busy, but I got to use his car."

"Thanks so much."  
"You think I'd choose Calculus homework over you?" He chuckled.

"I hope not."

"It's no contest."  
My heart fluttered. I squeezed him tighter. "Augh... I've missed you like crazy."

"I see you at least every weekend," he said.

"Still. It's never enough."

"Yeah. I know. You know, I do my homework at least once a week, too."

"I'm proud," I grumbled, and he laughed.

"Are Seth and Gran still watching?" I asked, giggling, and I felt his chin brush my head as he turned to look.

"No."  
"Oh, that's too bad." I carefully emerged from his arms.

"Why's that?" He was catching on now, smirking.

"They're always so interested in my personal life... and still they miss the best parts."  
I didn't waste another minute: taking his face in my palms, I reached up on tip toe and kissed him. It was a full kiss, the kind I always saw Jace give Simone. Zane returned it like the master he was, (still a mystery to me...) his arms tenderly cradling my waist. In that moment I had about a trillion flashbacks of the summer, the times when he and his uncle would come to visit for days, eve a week or two at times. Zane and I would go to the beach and spend the entire day talking in the sand. Or we'd put in a movie with Gran and Seth and innocently kiss eachother whenever Seth wasn't looking. (Thus getting caught in the act about every single time, since he never looked away for too long.)

And then I remembered Zane's _surprise_ visits, the ones where I really flipped out. He had his motorcycle during most of those occasions and we'd go zooming around San Diego for hours on end, only coming back to Gran's house when we were hungry. And we'd find Zane's uncle Isaac in the kitchen with her enjoying a cup of tea and making small talk; despite their age difference, they made good friends.

If he didn't have his bike, we'd walk hand-in-hand and then take the trolleys. I remember sitting in his lap, leaning my head back into his neck and pointing out the grimy trolley window at mimes performing on the passing streets. His arms felt so natural around my waist that even when we'd stood up to exit, I could still feel them there.

One night we'd sat on my bed whispering and giggling until four in the morning before Zane's uncle had driven over and pretty much had to drag his nephew from my room. Amid all these little dream-come-true's were five-hour phone calls that even Gran would insist come to an end at some point. By then, Seth had long given up on the two of us, Zane and I: he grew to ignore our existence, which wasn't any skin off our backs because we were always in our own little world anyway.

Zane's hand came to rest on the back of my head, shattering my recollections. I didn't mind; why bother pondering on memories of my boyfriend when he was standing right here, kissing me now?

Our lips finally parted: I could feel mine tingling, and let them wander to his cheek and ear to satisfy their complaints. He chuckled, wriggling away. Oops, I'd forgotten he was ticklish back there.

"You always do that," he said, rubbing his ear. It was his good ear, the one that wasn't caked in pink, burnt skin. I'd made an effort not to ever touch his scar until we had some kind of talk about it... but most of the time we were too busy nuzzling to bring up a dismal topic like that.

Besides, I had no idea how he'd handle it. He might be enraged, and then he might be totally cool. I didn't want to take my chances when my time with him was always so finite.

So I smiled and took his hands, leaning in to touch a brisk kiss of apology against his smiling lips.

"Sorry. I forget."

"I wonder if _you're_ ticklish..." He started to slink closer, fingers dancing on my waist.

"Stop!" I giggled, shoving his hands away. He just smirked and stole a kiss, knocking me breathless for a moment.

"We gonna go?" he asked.

I blinked and took his hands again, pulling him towards the parked motorcycle.

"Yeah. We are."

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**A/N**: Yup, it ends kinda... unfinished. but that's how i decided to do it. A 'short-and-simple' kind of thing. send me suggestions as to what Zane got her for her birthday . thanks so much guys! zutara forever!

p.s. in an alternate version of this, she meets him at a skate park and watches him do half-pipes for a minute. it's then that he gives her his gift. what is it??


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